


Catching Sunlight

by DeathSquiggles



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Bird Shapeshifter!Gavin, Hunter!Michael, Magic-Users, Multi, Red Riding Hood AU, Sorcerer!Jack, Trigger tags in description, Wolf!Meg, wolf!ryan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 17:23:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8542108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathSquiggles/pseuds/DeathSquiggles
Summary: Ray's life has a surprising amount of stability, considering he's a normal human living in a magic forest filled with warlocks and witches and people who turn into animals. He has his DS and his XBox, and Jack keeps him warm and fed. Running deliveries is the most interesting thing Ray does- But all of that changes when he meets Ryan.
Heavily inspired by Samijen's Ray Riding Hood AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed trigger warnings available [on my tumblr](http://kingvav.tumblr.com/rrhtw). This story's setting is based heavily off of Samijen's [Ray Riding Hood AU](http://samijen.tumblr.com/tagged/RayRidingHood), and I would highly recommend perusing the tag!

****_“Take this to Geoff. Walk straight there and don’t stray off of the path. There are dangerous things in the woods-”_  
“Blah, blah.” Ray mutters, just as he had wanted to before. There are dangerous things in the woods and Ray has no way to protect himself. He’s tried to tell Jack that the simple solution would be to _give_ Ray a way to protect himself, but Jack has always had a rebuttal on his lips before the words can even leave his mouth. _It’s dangerous,_ or _You could hurt yourself_ , or _I don’t have time to teach you_. All bullshit, but Jack won’t hear it, and Ray’s not eager to push his luck. He’s barely entrusted with basic deliveries as it is.

Something catches the front of his shoe and almost sends Ray tumbling to the ground. After a few moments of cursing and hopping around on one foot, he locates the offending object- it’s a little rock jutting out of the ground. And beside it is the perfect fucking pinecone, resting with the flat top on the ground so it’s pointing up into the sky. Nature gave this thing a top spin so it would land perfectly and it is _calling_ for Ray to come kick it, and who is he to resist the good Lady? He does a couple of test swings before approaching it- wouldn’t want to fuck up such a glorious opportunity- and savors the sensations of the moment before letting his foot sail in a clean arc toward the spiraling surface of the cone.

It flies ten feet then promptly crashes into a bush. “Aw, what?” Ray cries. He’s ready to complain more but then he gets a good look at the bush and okay, wow. Practically dripping from the thing are bloom after bloom of perfect roses, full and luscious and so vibrantly red that he mistakes them just for a moment as blood. They’re beautiful like nothing he has seen before. Ray needs one, desperately. Maybe two, actually. He’ll tuck one into the spot on his cloak where decorative pins go, and stow the other away in his basket to bring Jack later. Something so pure and perfectly formed is bound to be flooded with all sorts of magical properties that Jack can use for his brewing.

This is how he justifies the first shaking, tentative step off of the path and onto the grass. Ray has taken countless journeys by himself through the woods but never before has he dared leave the beaten dirt. But the bush is so close, and the blossoms are so _perfect-_ It’ll be fine! Just a few steps away, and then he’ll turn right back and be on his way. He gains confidence with each stride forward and reaches the bush feeling certain and safe. The plant itself is unremarkable. It doesn’t lack thorns or have glowing golden leaves, or any nonsense of that sort. It’s just a regular old rose bush. Ray picks two roses and snaps them free, quickly paring the thorns from the first with his pocket knife and affixing it to his cloak, and tucking the other into his basket. He turns and heads back. And freezes.

Because the path is gone.

Of course it is. This is standard magical forest bullshit, right here. Oh, Ray can only imagine the fucking weeks of lectures he’ll be receiving when he gets home. But Jack can only lecture him for not listening if he knows Ray strayed from the path, right? So he’ll just have to find his way to Geoff’s without it, and then act cool. Yeah. That’ll totally work.

The rose bush was on his right when he was facing the direction toward Geoff’s place, so he puts it back on his right and starts walking. His feet constantly catch on roots and stones and his skirt is snagged by a stray branch every fifteen seconds. This is going to be a long walk, Ray realizes. A long. Fucking. Walk.

And with all the noise he’s making, he sure as hell doesn’t notice the extra presence until a flicker of movement in his peripheral becomes a flash in front of him, then a figure leaning on a tree a few yards ahead, regarding him in a manner that can only be described as smug. The man is tall- He must have a half foot on Ray, maybe more- and wearing a dark leather jacket, but most striking are his eyes that seem to glow in the shadows. He is still swathed in the shade of the branches and Ray can’t quite make out his face.

“You look lost, little red one.” His voice is low and smooth. The blanketing feeling of security that seems to want to settle over Ray’s shoulders only puts him further on edge. He does not trust this man.

“I’m fine.” He remembers his manners. “Thank you.”

“You sure?” The man pushes off from the tree, takes a step forward into the light. Ray can’t keep his gasp in. Perched on the man’s head are a pair of black wolf ears, and from behind him peaks a similar tail. “You’re a long way from the path.”

Ray tightens his grip on the basket, thinking of the little knife buried among the bottles and packaged herbs. It’s barely two inches in length and beyond dull from years spent being shoved into innocent bark.

“I could walk you back, if you’d like.” The man keeps coming closer and the air around Ray feels heavy, warm. The urge to melt into the arms of this man only increases in part of Ray’s mind, but his common sense and many years spent under a powerful sorcerer’s protection must be doing him good, because he is able to shove aside these temptations, hiss out a ‘no thanks’ and take off to the left.

He feels the foliage grabbing and scratching at his skin and clothing but he doesn’t stop speed walking straight forward until his foot once again snags something, but this time, he’s sent sprawling onto the packed earth. Wait- It’s the path! All of the urgency pushing Ray to get away as quickly as he possibly can fades as the cloud of dirt settles. The path is safe. The path will protect him. Ray climbs to his feet, brushes the debris from his skin, and starts walking. It doesn’t really matter which direction he goes- he’ll see a landmark that will tell him if he chose correctly soon enough, and then he’ll be golden!

...But what the hell was with that wolf guy? Ray bites his inner cheek. On one hand, he’s super fucking curious about the Jedi mind trick bullshit he was pulling. On the other, he doesn’t want that week of lectures that asking would certainly bring upon him. Maybe Geoff could answer his questions; he’s never been one to shy away from candor, particularly when Ray asks repeated and badgering questions that promise to be silenced only by truth.

He spots a crumbling wall of washed out bricks ahead. It’s the abandoned house- he chose the right direction, after all. After heaving a relieved sigh, Ray takes a moment to study the ancient structure, wondering for what has to be the thousandth time what its original purpose was, and how it came to rest in such a sorry state. Only the exterior walls made it through the wrath of nature; everything else has been reclaimed by the forest or lies in rotting heaps against the earth. There’s a picture frame on the inside of the great room wall with several messages and crude images carved into the wood backing. Miles was so proud of himself when he “discovered” it that he dragged Ray and Kerry out every day for a week, declaring it their “secret clubhouse” which, of course, he was the king of. But it was a long enough walk that they tired of making the journey in a matter of days, and Ray hasn’t been inside since. It’s been years.

He feels nostalgic for a time long-since passed. And then it passes, and he continues on.

Geoff’s place isn’t far from here. He’s slowed slightly by the annoying sting of his scratches, but he makes good time regardless.

“The fuck happened to you?” Geoff looks him up and down critically, clearly taking note of every scratch, bump, and scrape along his skin.

“Oh, uh…” Ray looks down to survey for himself. Geoff was right to wonder; compared to his usual appearance upon arrival, he is filthy and battered to hell. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

Geoff crosses his arms and waits expectantly for Ray to explain while he starts unloading the bottles and things from his basket onto Geoff’s kitchen table. “I was sort of… Chased? Off of the path.” It’s not the whole truth, but it’s close enough, right…?

“Chased?”

“Yeah, there was… This fucking wolf guy, I don’t know. He had, like, yellow eyes and shit, and he just sorta popped up in front of me and started asking me shit.”

Geoff’s gone stiff. His eyes narrow sharply. “What kinds of shit?”

“He asked if I wanted him to walk me back to the path.” Ray finishes neatly setting the delivery out and carefully reattaches the clasp of his basket. He looks up and cannot stop his eyebrows from raising in surprise. Indifferent, I-don’t-give-a-shit-where’s-my-booze Geoff has been swapped out for a man visibly seething. He’s gripping his beat-up old communicator in one hand, and a yellowing piece of paper in the other, and his face is twisted into nothing short of a fucking scowl.

“Make yourself comfortable, Ray. You’re not leaving until Jack can come get you.”

“What?” Ray grips the basket a little tighter, trying to glean comfort from the familiar weave. “What’s going on?”

“Told that fucker… I can’t fucking believe this shit.” Geoff isn’t talking to him or even paying attention to him anymore, so Ray sighs and flops down onto one of the kitchen chairs. He pulls his DS from his side pouch and continues grinding with his Pokemon team. Can’t 100% Victory Road without an OP party, after all.

“Geoff?” Ray calls when he sees him enter again. Geoff looks distant as he slides into one of the other chairs at the table.

“Hm?”

“...What’s going on?” Ray repeats, setting his DS down on the table.

Geoff shakes his head. “I don’t know what Jack’s okay with telling you.”

“I’m not a kid,” Ray protests. “I can handle it.”

His eyes focus long enough for Geoff to give him a look bordering apologetic. “I know. But he wants to protect you, and I gotta respect that.”

Ray sighs and tucks his nose back into his screen.

Geoff coughs awkwardly. “So… Enjoying those, uh… Nintendos?”

Ray snorts. “Yes.”

“What’re you playing?”

“Pokemon.”

“Oh.” Geoff actually starts _twiddling his thumbs_. “Who’s your start man? Is it… Fucking… What’s it called, Charmeat?”

“Charmander. And no, that’s a different gen.”

“Different gen.” Geoff repeats, mostly to himself. Ray resists the urge to raise a brow. “Right.”

“Why are you asking me about this? You hate Pokemon.”

“I fucking _hate_ Pokemon,” Geoff agrees heartily. “I, uh, I heard that you’re not supposed to leave trauma victims by themselves, or something.”

“I’m not traumatized.”

Geoff shrugs dramatically. “I don’t want to get stuck with the fucking blame for Jack’s kid going Looney Tunes under my watch. Sue me.”

“Geoff, please,” Ray replies with a smirk. “If one of us were going to go insane, do you think it would be the healthy young boy or the ancient asshole whose blood is half alcohol?”

“Hey,” Geoff warns. “I might be old, but I can still kick your ass.”

“Sure, grandpa.”

They snipe back and forth about various things for a while. Maybe half an hour later, there’s a knock on the door. Ray perks up. He’s starting to get hungry, and Jack will probably have brought a snack for him- cookies, or maybe a chocolate bar and some juice. But when Geoff ambles over and opens the door, it isn’t Jack who appears on the other side. It’s a stranger to Ray.

Geoff invites the man in and gestures sweepingly to the kitchen table. The man takes a moment to remove his boots and overbelt, from which a shotgun and an axe hang, then walks over and takes one of the remaining seats, directly across from Ray. He’s got a strong, confident gait, like every step is perfectly rehearsed and he has nothing short of certainty about where his foot will fall. It’s almost laughable, how different it is compared to Geoff’s uncertain hobble, even in his own home. To be fair, Geoff’s probably at least a little bit intoxicated right now, but still.

Geoff takes the seat beside the man and they both look at him until he shuts his DS and sets it slowly on the table. “Michael, this is Ray, Jack’s boy. Ray, this is Michael. He’s a hunter, and he’d like to hear more about the man you saw today.”

Michael is slightly intimidating in stature, but he doesn’t look unkind. And if Geoff has decided to trust him, then Ray will too- it took several months of deliveries to even be allowed in Geoff’s house, so this man is clearly someone worthy of that trust. “It’s nice to meet you, Ray.” Michael doesn’t reach across the table to shake, like every other person Ray has met always has. It’s more interesting than off-putting. “Can you describe the dude you saw?”

“Sure.” Ray does his best to recall the man, but that strange foggy quality to the air seems to permeate his memories, because he draws blank on the specifics. “He was tall. Like, taller than Jack. And he was wearing a leather jacket. He had wolf ears and… I think a tail?” Yes, Ray remembers it poking out from behind the man. “Yeah, a tail. I couldn’t see his face very well, but his eyes were like… They were glowing.”

“What did he say to you?”

“He said…” This part is especially difficult, for some reason. “He said I looked lost. And he asked me if I wanted… For him to walk me back to the path.”

“Did you feel anything strange, while you were talking to him? Like, mentally or emotionally.”

“Yeah, actually. It was kind of like the air was heavy, and I really wanted to just go along with whatever he said. I felt like I needed to go with him. Like I _had_ to.”

Michael doesn’t seem surprised. “And?” He prompts. “What did you do?”

“I told him no, and then I walked away.”

Okay, _now_ Michael is surprised. “You- You told him _no_?”

“Right. I mean, I said no thank you, but- yeah.”

Michael glances at Geoff with an expression that Ray has difficulty describing. Incredulous? Uncertain? Confused? Annoyed? All of the above…? “I thought you said he’s not magical.”

Geoff looks similarly broken up. “He isn’t.”

“There’s no way. There is no fucking way that it was him, if this kid could just say no and walk away.”

“It has to be, Michael. No one else can do what he just described.”

Michael covers his mouth with his hand and stares at the wall above Ray’s head, brows drawn together in concentration.

“So… Does anyone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Geoff’s got his mouth open to reply when there’s another knock at the door. He promptly shoves his chair back and goes to get the door, muttering about letting _Jack explain it to his fucking kid himself_ as he goes. Sure enough, it’s actually Jack this time, looking extremely worried. The tension in his expression softens when he sees Ray and he hurries over, kneeling in front of him and gingerly taking one of Ray’s arms into his hands, turning it over and inspecting the smattering of little wounds.

“I’m fine, Jack.” Ray says. Jack nods but continues thoroughly looking over his limbs anyway.

Once he’s done scouring every inch of exposed skin, Jack pulls a little sandwich bag from his pocket and hands it to Ray and _Hell Fucking Yes, Cookies._ He immediately gets to work on them while Jack has a hushed conversation with Geoff in the other room. He’s just polished off his second cookie when Ray notices that Michael is still staring at the wall. Silently, he holds out his remaining treat in offering.

Michael glances at him, then the cookie, then back at him. He looks confused.

“Do you want one? They’re good, Jack made them.” Ray says slowly.

Michael gently takes the cookie from him and inspects it carefully. “Thanks.” He finally says, and takes a cautious bite. Okay. Weird. But whatever, Ray’s definitely seen weirder around here. Magical forests tend to attract the freaks that even the circus rejected for being too strange.

Jack returns from his conversation. “Ray, come on. It’s time to go home.”

He retrieves his DS and barely has time to wave goodbye to Geoff and Michael before he’s being ushered out the door.

They pass a patch of particularly vibrant flowers while walking in silence for the first twenty minutes that reminds Ray suddenly of the roses. He stops Jack with a tug to his sleeve and presents the flower tucked in the basket to him. Jack smiles at him, but Ray knows the many smiles of Jack Pattillo very well, and this is not a thankful smile.

“You left the path to get these, didn’t you?”

“Uh.” Fuck.

“Ray…” Jack sighs and gently removes the rose on his cloak, then tucks both of them into a little tangle of grass a foot or so from the path’s edge. “I don’t think I need to remind you how dangerous that is.”

“But…” He stares forlornly at the blooms until Jack pulls him along.

“They’re probably hexed. That would be my guess as to how he managed to get you off of the path.”

“What, like flower hypnotism?” Ray’s going for sarcasm, but Jack’s answer is serious.

“Something like that.” Jack pauses. “Unless you would prefer that I believe you wandered off the path of your own free will?”

“No,” Ray mutters, defeated. He spares the flowers one last look over his shoulder. The way the red stands so starkly against the flickering shadows of green is just… Indescribable. He burns the image into his mind as best he can before Jack pulls him along insistently toward home.

 

Jack is uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the _incident_ , as Ray has started calling it in his mind. He’s not allowed to go make any deliveries for three days, which is fine, but what sucks is that Jack won’t explain fucking anything. All he gets out of the guy for his hours of pestering is that the man is some sort of wolf hybrid who’s been stirring up trouble in recent months, and that Michael’s been trying to track him down.

“I’m a grown man, Jack! I can handle knowing about the big bad wolf!”

“You’re seventeen, Ray. I’d hardly call you grown.”

“Hey, my birthday is in less than three weeks.”

“And yet,” Jack replies, tossing some powder into whatever the fuck he’s brewing. “You’re still a minor, and I’m still your gaurdian.”

Ray pouts. Jack rolls his eyes and points at his basket, which Ray watched him load with herbs and weird bottles of mysterious shit earlier.

“Can you take that over to Lindsay’s? I was planning on doing it myself, but this is taking longer than I thought it would.”

“Sure.” Ray stretches and deposits his DS into his pouch. He’d normally complain about being made to leave the house, but he hasn’t been allowed out beyond the front gate since the incident, and he’s starting to get a little bit cabin feverish. Plus, he likes Lindsay. She’s funny and she doesn’t talk to him like he’s stupid.

Jack takes a moment to muss up Ray’s hair, give him a quick hug, and pass him a granola bar from somewhere in one of his pockets before waving him out.

The walk is uneventful. He half expects for the man to leap suddenly from the trees and try to hypnotize him or some shit, but Ray has only himself and the little creatures stirring up leaves a few feet away for company. He doesn’t mind. Ray has always been fine with solitude. As long as he has something electronic to keep himself occupied, he’s fine.

Lindsay greets him warmly and invites him inside when he arrives. She comes up with a couple of cups of tea and sits with him in the living room while they sip and chat.

“How’s Ruby doing?”

“Always getting into things,” Lindsay laments. “She’s around here somewhere. I’m sure we’ll hear the crashing soon enough.” Moments later, there’s the sound of something glass shattering in the kitchen. Lindsay sighs but she’s smiling. Ruby strolls in with her tail up a few seconds later, looking as close to smug as a cat possibly can. She trots up to Ray as soon as she sees him and starts rubbing against his legs. “Man, I wish she liked me as much as she likes you.”

“I’m pretty sure she only does this to spite Hilda.”

Lindsay laughs. “She would, the little shit.” And her cats must be sopping up some of the magic of the forest, because Hilda appears right on cue and immediately starts hissing at Ray.

He stands, giving Ruby a soft pat and collecting his basket and the few coins Lindsay set beside it from the table. “I’d better get going,” he says.

“Be careful on your way home. There’s been strange things going on lately.”

Ray pauses. “What kinds of things?”

Hilda jumps in her lap and meows until Lindsay starts scratching under her chin. “Some merchants have gone missing, and I’ve heard rumors about shady people hanging around. Just stay on the path, and you’ll be safe.”

“Right.” Ray nods to her as he leaves.

He’s a little less than halfway home when he hears the snap.

Ray turns slowly and, sure enough, the man is leaning against a tree a few yards back, a handful of steps from the edge of the path. He gets a better look at his face this time; strong jaw, scruffy beard, confident smirk, and glowing amber scalera. He guesses he should be creeped out or scared or fucking _something_ , but the man just doesn’t have the right… aura? For that? He seems more calm and amused than intimidating and ready to pounce.

After a few seconds of silent eye contact, one of the man’s arms shifts. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a single perfect red rose.

“You dropped this.” He says, and holds it out at arm’s length in Ray’s direction.

Ray stares at him. What? The fuck? He could easily take the flower without leaving the path, and he’s safe as long as he’s on it, right? So it can’t do any harm to take the rose. Because it’s just as captivatingly beautiful this time as it was last, and he doesn’t feel that strange haze of trust around him this time. Ray watches the man carefully as he approaches, but he doesn’t move, just watches Ray right back.

His fingers brush the man’s for a fleeting moment as he takes the rose. His hand is warm.

“Thank you,” Ray says, taking a step back as he tucks the flower into his basket. He’ll have to hide it from Jack somewhere. Maybe in the back garden, behind the hydrangeas. The man nods and kicks off of the trunk, turning on his heel and walking away. Ray watches the way his tail moves with his steps. Probably helping him stay balanced… Or something. He should absolutely let the man leave and tell Jack about it when he gets home. From what Lindsay said, he’s probably eating merchants and shit, and Ray was clearly on his menu only days ago. He should leave. Now.

Damn it, he’s too fucking curious. Ray cannot let this opportunity go to waste.

“Wait!” He cries.

The man stops and turns his head, peering at Ray through the corner of his eye. “Yes?”

“U-uh,” Ray stammers. “What’s your name?”

For a few seconds it is quiet and Ray wonders if he isn’t going to answer. And then he does. “Ryan.”

_Ryan._ Hm. “My name is Ray.”

Another pause. “Well, then.” Ryan says. “It’s nice to meet you, Ray.”

And then he melts into the shadows.

Ray stares at the place he stood for several seconds, then shakes his head and starts back toward home.

 

It’s another two days before Ray sees Ryan again. He has the rose on his cloak again- the bloom is still in pristine condition, so there’s no doubt that it’s magical, but it hasn’t made him feel strange, so he’s been wearing it whenever he leaves the house without Jack. It’s kickass and it brings out the little gold bits in Ray’s eyes. Whatever.

He’s on his way to Kdin’s place. Kdin is one of the farthest clients of Jack’s that’s still technically within walking distance, so it’s a long journey to make, and a painful one to make alone. No one to keep him company, and nothing to do but hum and talk to himself. Except, Ray feels something unusual. It’s like… Someone is there. He can feel eyes on him and he can feel that they don’t belong to a deer or bear or something. So he looks around and, sure enough, Ryan is doing his trademark fucking cool kid lean on an old elm a couple of yards to his left.

“Sup.” Ray says.

Ryan smirks. “You seem lonely.”

Ray shrugs. “I’m doing fine.”

“Want some company?”

Ray weighs his options. Ryan could be stalking him so he can kidnap him and eat him, or he could just be also bored. As long as Ray stays on the path, he’s safe. What’s the harm? “Sure, I guess.”

Ryan looks genuinely pleased. He moves toward Ray- and he can’t really call it _walking_ , exactly, because the way Ryan seems to almost dance through the brush with feather-light steps and twists is just too fucking graceful to be blunted with something as arbitrary as the word ‘walk’- and matches pace with him on his left, giving the path a foot wide berth. A very clearly deliberate berth, Ray thinks.

“So, what’s in the basket today?” Ryan asks.

Ray is slightly taken aback by the question. “I don’t fucking know, man. Leaves and shit?”

“Leaves and shit.” Ryan repeats dryly.

“Yeah. Like, herbs and stuff. For brewing.”

“Brewing. Interesting.”

Quiet falls between them. Ray supposes he should be much more uneasy, having some random wolf dude walking with him- Why does Ryan want to walk with him, again?- but it doesn’t really bother him. He knows he’s protected, of course, but it’s more than that; Ryan doesn’t feel untrustworthy, exactly. Ray’s not about to turn his back and start talking up his delicious flesh meat or anything, but he doesn’t really get the impression that Ryan has ill intentions. But… What _are_ his intentions?

“Why do you want to walk with me?” Ray blurts. He can hear Jack’s etiquette lessons echoing in his head and tacks on a, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Ryan shrugs. “Like I said. You seemed lonely.”

“Were… You following me?” Ray asks hesitantly.

“No.” Ryan replies. “You’d have known if I was.”

Ray carefully steps over a fallen branch in his way. “How do you figure?”

Ryan points at his chest. “The rose.” Ray’s fingers go automatically to the edges of the petals. “You knew I was there earlier, didn’t you?”

“I guess,” Ray replies.

He waits for further explanation, but Ryan provides none; instead, he says, “What sort of herbs are they?”

“What? I don’t fucking know, dude. Why do you care?”

“I’m trying to figure out who you’re making a delivery to.”

“It’s for-”

“Ah! No, don’t tell me! I want to guess.”

Ray snorts. Ryan smiles softly. Kind of reminds him of Jack, but… Not at all, somehow at the same time. They’re different kinds of soft, Ray thinks. “Do you want a clue?”

“I just asked about the variety.”

“Oh, right.” Ray pops the clasp and shuffles the bottles around. “Uh… Lots of red shit. Most of it is dried. There’s also some claws or something in one of these? That’s gross.”

Ryan hums. “Sounds like fire herbs. And given the direction you’re headed, I’d say… This delivery is for Kdin Jenzen.” Ray looks up to find Ryan watching him expectantly. “Am I right?”

“Yep.”

Ryan’s ears actually perk up. Like, pop upward with his grin. It’s fucking incredible. Andkindofadorableshutup.

“Do you know a lot of people around here?” Ray asks.

“I know most of them, actually. I was a bit surprised that you didn’t already know my name.”

“Wow.” Ray raises his eyebrows. “You’re that popular, huh?”

“God, no,” Ryan replies. “I just expected that they’d’ve told you to stay away.”

Well, technically, they did. But Ray doesn’t really feel like bringing that up. “Why?”

Ryan twitches his ears and deliberately swishes his tail. “Not many folks are particularly trusting of a wolf.”

“I see.” That’s fucking dumb, if it’s the whole story. But Ray seriously doubts that it is. He may not think Ryan’s going to attack him, but he’s not about to try and push him about his possible violent nature when they’re alone together, a good forty minutes from the nearest person.

He wonders if Ryan can read his mind because suddenly there’s a warm hand closed in a vice like grip around his wrist and yanking him backward. Ray only has time to grunt in surprise and then there’s another hand on his shoulder, holding him down. Except… No, it’s not holding him in place- it’s steadying him. Ryan has darted to his side and is keeping him upright. Pressing against the front of his right ankle is a curling branch sticking up from the ground. It would have tripped his ass only a moment later, and then he’d have been on the ground in bruise town all over again.

He turns to face Ryan with gratitude on his lips when he’s stopped by a shrill, unnatural shriek of some kind of bird. He turns back ahead to see the source and finds a starling furiously diving toward them. Even before his reflexes can drop him into a duck the bird suddenly morphs in mid air, growing in size and distorting until suddenly there isn’t a bird but a man before them, holding a notched bow with an arrow pointed right at Ray.

The hands release him and the man’s aim shifts very slightly to the left and Ray realizes that the arrow is for Ryan, not him. The man in question is side stepping until there’s a couple of feet between them, hands raised with palms up in the gesture of surrender.

“Don’t move.” The man’s speech is thickly affected by a British accent.

Ryan pauses, eyes flickering to meet Ray’s for a moment before returning to the man. “Sorry.” He says, and then several things happen way too fucking quickly. First, he twitches. Second, the man releases the arrow. Third, Ryan seems to completely vanish. And fourth, the arrow pierces the tree he stood in front of, right where his heart was a beat before.

A startled sound escapes Ray and he looks back at the man. Who the fuck? Is he in danger? What the hell is going on?!

But the man doesn’t notch another arrow. He glares in the direction of Ryan’s previous spot for a moment, then slides his bow over himself so he’s wearing it almost like a sash, with the string in the front. He takes a step toward Ray but freezes when Ray instantly takes a step back.

He looks sheepish. “Right, uh. You’re Ray, right?”

Ray nods. The man smiles and loosens his posture. It makes him seem a lot less threatening, and it also just looks more natural on him in general.

“My name is Gavin Free.”

Oh! Ray knows that name. He’s heard it a couple of times over the years from Jack. He doesn’t really know anything about Gavin, but he finds himself relaxing anyway.

Gavin tries taking a step again, then, encouraged by Ray’s lack of a flight response, he closes the few yards between them and sticks out his hand. His skin is tanned and slightly dirty and his hands are wrapped in some kind of dark green fabric. His entire outfit seems to be made up of varying shades of green; Ray thinks that if he were to perch up in the trees and sit still, he would completely blend with the leaves. And… For someone who was just a bird a few seconds ago, Gavin sure has a fucking _beak_ on him. Ray presses his lips together to keep from laughing at his shitty pun as he takes Gavin’s hand and gives it a firm shake.

He reaches into a pocket hidden somewhere on his pant leg and pulls out a communicator. “I’d better tell Michael about this real quick,” he says, tapping the device a couple of times before holding it out in front of him. Ray is in the middle of thinking about how strange it seems to have a phone call with the receiver held more than a foot from your head when the dial tone plays from the communicator. Ah.

There’s a clicking noise, some fumbling, and then Michael’s static-filled voice. “Hello?”

“Michael!” Gavin’s entire face seems to light up. “You’ll never guess who I just took a shot at.”

“Please don’t tell me it was Jeremy. I swear to god, that was one time, and he only looked hot because we both had serious fucking beer goggles-”

“Michael.” A flush spreads across Gavin’s cheeks. “You’re on speaker, love.”

“Wait, what? Who are you with?”

“Ray. You know, Pattillo’s kid? And I shot at his apparent new stalker.”

There’s a pause. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“God damn it. Send me your coordinates, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“On it. See you soon.”

He ends the call and taps the screen a few times, then shoves the device back into his pocket.

“So!” He says brightly. “You’re on a delivery for Jack?”

Ray holds up the basket. “Yep.”

“Who’re you going to see?”

“Kdin.”

“Oh, that pleb? He owes me for a bet. This’ll be a great opportunity.”

“What will?” Ray thought he was sort of following things, but now he’s lost again.

“Well, there’s no way you’re walking the rest of the way by yourself. Not with that lunatic following you around.” Gavin wanders to the tree and starts carefully working his arrow out of the trunk. “He’s been nothing but trouble since he showed up around here.”

Ray looks down at the branch, still half an inch from his ankle. “Really?”

“Oh absolutely!” Gavin pulls the arrow free with a triumphant shout. He returns it to the quiver strapped tightly against his side and turns back to face Ray. “People have been disappearing left and right. Lots of reports of a wolf man luring hikers off of the path and then they go missing. Some robberies and property damage. Standard big bad wolf stuff, really.”

Ray furrows his brows and stares at his shoes. “Why would he do that?”

“Dunno.” The question had been more for himself, but Gavin answers anyway, apparently oblivious to Ray’s internal questioning. “Like I said. Lunatic.”

There’s some crashing in the brush and then a panting Michael emerges, sweating and holding tightly to his gun. “Which way’d he go?”

Gavin points into the forest. Michael glances around, gaze settling on Ray. “What’re we gonna do about…?”

Ray wants to protest that he’s practically an adult and can take care of himself- hell, Michael and Gavin don’t really seem that much older than him, anyway- but he’s only met them once or twice before. He can sass and banter with most of Jack’s usual clients, sure, but they all took the time to warm up to him and invite that kind of behavior. Better keep his fat mouth shut for now.

“I’ll walk him to Kdin’s. See what Jack says once we get there. You go,” Gavin replies, pointing again.

Michael nods and looks at Ray again, mouth twisted into a frown. “See you around,” He says with an awkward half wave. Then he cups Gavin’s cheek with his free hand and kisses him on the lips chastely before taking off jogging in the direction Ryan fled.

Ray’s expression must be hilarious, because Gavin bursts into giggles. “Come on,” he says after taking a moment to breathe. “Let’s go, then.”

 

“So, Ray, how’s school going?”

Ray snorts. “Is there even a school within ten miles of this fucking forest?”

Gavin considers this for a moment. “Not that I know of. But you know how to read, so Jack must be teaching you _something._ ”

“Well, yeah. He teaches me how to do, like, math and shit. But not during the summer.”

“Michael is teaching me algebra. I never learned it before I came here.”

“Wait, how old are you?” Ray asks.

“I’m nineteen.”

“Fuck, and you’re asking me shit about school? Dude, you’re only a year older than me.”

Gavin smiles and shrugs. “I guess I always assumed you were younger, from how Geoff talked about you.”

“Geoff talks about me?”

“Well, sort of. It’s mostly in passing. He always calls you ‘Jack’s kid’ or ‘Jack’s boy’. I thought you were a little kid, honestly, so I was surprised when I saw you.”

“Geoff never talks about you.” Ray says carelessly. “Wait, fuck, that’s not-”

But Gavin just laughs. “Yeah, he tells me I’m like the annoying son he never wanted every time we hang out.”

“Oof.”

Ray thinks he likes Gavin. They talk about video games (Gavin is surprisingly knowledgeable, for someone who lives in the forest) and where to get the best food (it’s a tossup between Geoff’s rare barbeques and Stephie’s little pastry shop). All the while, Gavin never talks down to Ray or treats him like he’s a little kid. As much as he loves Jack and knows how much the other adults around care about him, Ray often feels like they don’t really take him seriously. He knows that being seventeen doesn’t make him an adult. But it doesn’t make him a dumb kid, either.

Eventually, Ryan comes up.

Gavin pauses to lay his hand on a tree trunk and studiously study the bark for several seconds.

“What’s up?” Ray asks, toeing at a pebble with his sneaker so he doesn’t stare at Gavin.

“The man who attacked you came through here. Recently, too.”

“How can you tell?”

Gavin steps back and gestures to the tree. Ray approaches and, on further inspection, he sees the little streak of nearly dried blood. Anxiety stabs in his gut. Was Ryan hurt?

Did Ryan hurt someone? ...No. Something is making Ray feel absolutely certain that it’s Ryan’s blood on that tree. He has no doubt.

“It’s definitely his. I’ve hit him once, a couple of months ago. Got a good read on his blood.”

Once again, his face must betray him, because Gavin gently places a hand on his shoulder and smiles encouragingly at him.

“It’ll be alright, Ray. We’ll catch him.”

“How do you know he’s the one who’s been doing those things?”

Gavin looks taken aback. “Well, I mean, he’s the obvious answer, isn’t he?”

“I guess,” Ray replies. “But has anyone actually, like, witnessed him doing something?” He thinks of the conversation they had earlier that day. He thinks of the rose.

“I suppose not.” Gavin starts walking again at a brisk enough pace that Ray has to jog a little to catch up. “But if he were innocent, why would he run?”

“I mean, you did shoot at him. I would run.”

A corner of Gavin’s mouth twists up. It isn’t a smile. “I only shot at him because he grabbed you.”

“He wasn’t-”

Michael comes crashing once more through the bushes. Okay, seriously- This goddamn forest has got to have some sort of bullshit magic thing for timing, because people keep showing up right at the peak of a dramatic moment, and it’s really starting to get on Ray’s nerves.

“Gavin, what the fuck? I’ve been trying to call you for a fucking hour!”

Gavin looks confused, then sheepish. “I might have turned off my communicator?” It comes out like a question. Michael stalks forward and Ray wonders for a horrifying moment if he’s going to hit him, but he just pulls Gavin into a headlock and gives him a fierce noogie while Gavin squeals and giggles.

“Come on, man, at least send me a goddamn message before you do that. I thought you’d finally been eaten by a fucking bear.”

“Michael, you’re the only bear that I’d ever let eat m-”

“Inappropriate!” Michael points at Ray without looking at him.

“Did you know that Ray’s only a year younger than me?” Gavin says, pulling away from Michael and dusting off his shoulders.

“So both of you are teenage brats? Awesome. That’s just wonderful, Gav.”

“Michael, you’re only twenty!”

“And do you hear a ‘teen’ in the number twenty?”

“No, but-”

“Exactly.”

They keep squabbling back and forth. Ray finds himself tuning them out in favor of studying the blood more carefully. It’s sort of smeared, like he ran his hand across the bark. Plus, it’s thicker and rounded on one side, then tapers off- Ray guesses that’s the direction he was going. That, or it’s the direction he wanted anyone looking to _think_ he was going. Was he coherent enough when he passed by to do something like that? It really depends on where the blood was coming from, he supposes.

Ray really hopes that he’s okay.

“Oh! Ray, you just reminded me. Michael, that’s some of the wolf guy’s blood on that tree there.”

Michael inspects it. “This is pretty fresh. But he wasn’t wounded when I was chasing him earlier.”

A small pit forms in Ray’s stomach.

“Either way, I gotta follow this. You okay to take the kid home?”

“I’m not a _kid_ ,” Ray protests under his breath.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I was headed that way when I came across him earlier, anyway.”

Michael nods. They kiss briefly, and then he’s off again, sprinting into the woods. Gavin continues to watch the vegetation in the direction he disappeared for a few moments, something soft and unguarded in his expression. Then, he turns to Ray with a grin. “Shall we, then?”

The journey is filled with Gavin babbling about nonsense and Ray occasionally commenting on contradicting pieces of information or ridiculous statements (“Ray, did you know that there are some species of monkey that can be taught English?” “There’s literally no way that is true.”)

He’s only a little bit disappointed when the paling yellow exterior of his home begins to appear between the trees. Gavin walks him to the front gate, waves, and then turns and sprints for a moment before turning into a fucking _bird_ and flying away. Fuck, how did Ray forget to ask about that _again_? Jesus.

It was, overall, an uneventful walk. Except for one thing.

Ray sneaks the rose into the house.

Once he’s got his door firmly shut and thoroughly blocked by a chair (if there’s a fire, he’ll just jump out the window), he takes it out from the folds of his skirt and studies it closely by the light streaming in from his window.

It hasn’t aged.

The petals are all completely pristine and the color is just as vibrant as the day he first saw it. It’s almost overwhelmingly beautiful, watching it seem to almost glimmer in the sunlight. A primal part of him wants desperately to destroy it so it can no longer have power over him. He appeases this urge by gently taking a smaller petal near the edge and plucking it from the flower.

He waits five seconds.

Nothing turns into an angry floral spirit or wilts or sprays poison in his eyes, so he assumes the flower is not vengeful. That’s… He probably should have thought of that. Before. Huh.

Well, Ray’s not dead, so it’s whatever. Still, he feels kind of bad about pulling the petal off. It was for science, though! A worthy sacrifice indeed.

...What was he trying to prove, again?

While he’s contemplating this, a funny sensation begins in his hands. It’s like a warm pocket of air, around his fingers. He lifts them up. The sensation stays. He removes one hand, and it loses its heat. The air it previously occupies is not warm. Then he lets his fingertips touch the rose again, and the warmth returns. Okay. This is definitely new. Probably.

It seems harmless enough not to warrant any panic, but it’s still weird as hell. What kind of magic is this? What purpose could it possibly serve? Surely there is no calling important enough to justify the efforts of growing the bush from scratch, or preparing the soil and watering solution, or maintaining it with regular enchantments. That’s a lot of steps for ‘sorta warm air around hands while holding rose.’

There’s a quick rap at his door. Ray jumps and scrambles to hide the rose under his covers and spin around on his bed to face the door. He settles just in time as Jack peeks in. The chair just slides slightly along the floor. It’s completely useless for locking the door. Good to know.

“Oh, no,” Ray says. “I know that look.”

“I need you to run a delivery for me.”

Ray sighs, then nods.

 

A week passes. Ryan doesn’t make any appearances. Ray keeps the rose on him at all times, and discovers that it doesn’t always produce the warm air around his hands. Still, it feels comfortable, so he holds onto it while he walks, and tucks it under his blanket at night. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep because the knots in his stomach won’t stop twisting, he’ll sit under the covers and just hold the flower until he can calm down.

Gavin joins him a couple of times. He chatters endlessly, and in doing so, inadvertently updates Ray on the more hushed matters of the forest. Gossip, mostly, but he also mentions another merchant going missing. Ray tries to press him for more details but Gavin goes all tight-lipped on him and changes the subject to complaining about Michael’s aversion to cats.

On the seventh day, Ray is slotted to make a couple of deliveries in one go. First Barbara, then Miles on the way back. Not a short walk, but not quite the hike to Kdin’s place, so he’ll take it. But where Gavin usually stands to wait for him when they walk together is instead Michael, looking out into the trees with a distant expression.

“Michael?” Ray calls out as he approaches.

Michael barely turns his head to acknowledge him. “Hey.”

“What’s… going on?”

He looks away. “I’m walking with you today.”

“Why? Like, I don’t mind, but…”

Michael sighs. “Another person was killed. It wasn’t a merchant this time.”

“Oh.” Ray pauses, considers his options. Michael is being dodgy about it, but is that just how he communicates, or is there something else going on? He decides there’s not much to lose by asking. “Who was it?”

“It was a kid.” He runs a hand through his hair, then lets it awkwardly drop to his side, like he’s uncertain about what to do with it. “A little kid. He was… The body was _displayed_. Like it was sending a message.”

“That’s…” Ray feels a bit sick, suddenly. He drops his head. “That’s awful.”

“Yeah.” Michael agrees. “This is the first time a child was, uh… So I’m walking with you. For now.”

Ray nods slowly. Michael starts walking. He trails after him.

A few minutes into the walk, Ray silently takes the rose off of his hood and places it in the basket.

 

He sleeps terribly that night. Ray’s dreams are wracked with nightmares of wolves chasing him through the forest. He makes it to the path, finally, but the wolves are undeterred- they stalk onto the dirt and he is frozen in place, staring at the approaching forms in horror until the one in front starts to change. It morphs in a swathe of shadows until it is no longer a wolf, but Ryan kneeling before him, bearing a mouthful of sharp teeth. He lunges at Ray’s throat.

Ray wakes up in a cold sweat.

The rose is sitting on his bedside table. The colors are paled by the moonlight streaming in from his window. He feels suddenly like it is watching him. It starts to creep him out, so Ray takes the flower and considers throwing it out the window, but ultimately ends up setting it under his bed where it can’t be seen.

He doesn’t manage to get back to sleep after that.

 

“Welcome back.” Jack greets him with the usual warm smile. Ray tries to make himself smile back as he sets the newly-emptied basket on the entry table, but whatever ends up on his face clearly doesn’t cut it, because Jack’s expression morphs into concern and he sets aside his mortar and pestle to walk over. It’s comforting, to have Jack smooth down the rumples on his hood and rest his hands on Ray’s shoulders. Makes him feel kind of like a little kid again. In those days, Jack would kneel down in front of him and soothe him until the sniffles subsided, and then he would gently ask what happened and do whatever he could to make it better. This often involved dispensing cookies and his favorite brand of juice.

Simpler times.

“Are you alright? You’ve seemed off, recently.”

“I…” Ray purses his lips. Jack could probably offer him some words of comfort that would help alleviate the stresses in his mind, but if Ray gives into the impulse to seek comfort, Jack will just keep treating him like a kid forever. “It’s nothing.”  
“You sure?” Jack prompts softly.

“Yes,” Ray says, a little too firmly. So he tacks on, “Sorry. I can handle it on my own. That’s all.”

“Okay…” Jack stops running his hands over Ray’s shoulders and takes a half step back. “I understand, but please don’t think that you have to deal with things by yourself. I’ll always be here for you.”

Ray nods his acknowledgement and returns to his room, planning on drowning his sorrows by destroying people in Smash Brothers online play.

 

Michael walks with him for his next three deliveries. They don’t talk much, if at all. The rose remains under his bed.

For the next delivery, Jack informs him that he will be by himself- the package is just going to Lindsay’s place, which isn’t too far, and Michael and Gavin are busy today. Ray asks what they are doing. Jack ruffles his hair and hands him a juice box.

He sets out.

The rose is still under his bed. He can’t bring himself to get rid of it, but he can’t bring himself to take it with him, either. Or to even move it from its point of banishment in the endless cavern. Thinking about Ryan makes him feel weird in ways that he is not prepared to examine in detail or even acknowledge, so he has mostly stuck to not thinking about Ryan, if at all possible. So most of the time he is deliberately diverting his thoughts toward other things, like mentally mapping his Animal Crossing village, or listing state capitals. Anything to cover his anxiety.

...He said that he wasn’t well liked because he’s a wolf.

_“Albany, Annapolis, Atlanta, Augusta…”_

But then he went and killed a child?

_“Austin, Baton Rouge, Bismarck, Boise.”_

It doesn’t make sense. Ray has felt strongly about things in his life only a handful of times. He tends to go along with whatever with little protest, even when it’s inconvenient to him; it’s just who he is. But sometimes he is absolutely _certain_ about something, and that certainty is backed by a steel will to stand by his perception.

And he is certain that Ryan is a good person.

But good people don’t kill children and leave their bodies hanging for all to see.

Nonononono, stop, no thinking about it, no no no no.

“ _Boston, Carson City, Charleston, Columbia-_ ”

“You missed Cheyenne.”

Ray jumps. Full on yelps, leaps backward, both feet off the ground, and falls on his ass. A few yards ahead stands Ryan, with his arms deliberately pressed to his side. He’s not doing his usual cool kid lean on a tree. That’s weird- Wait, no, that is not the priority right now.

“What the hell?”

“Cheyenne is the capital of Wyoming. Alphabetically, it’s between Charleston and Columbia.”

Ray just stares at him. Ryan hunches his shoulders slightly and shrugs.

“Sorry. I just… I thought you would want to know.”

“Why are you here?” Ray fires off the question as soon as Ryan stops talking.

He seems unsurprised by the inquiry. “You stopped wearing the rose.”

On instinct, Ray glances down to confirm, even though he damn well knows that he isn’t wearing it. “Okay…? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You wore it every time. Until… Until five days ago.”

Ray purses his lips and stares at the cloud of dust he kicked up on his fall. So Ryan has been stalking him, after all.

“Ray.” He sees Ryan move in his peripheral vision and looks up sharply to keep track of him. He is now kneeling, keeping at eye level with Ray, still on the ground. “I didn’t do this.”

Ray holds eye contact with him. “Then who did?”

“I-” Ryan bites his lip, looks away for a moment. Then he returns. “I can’t tell you. Not yet. But I _swear_ to you that I’m not the one who’s been killing people.”

His gut is screaming for him to just _trust_ Ryan. He briefly entertains the idea that Ryan is using the same Jedi mind trick thing as the first time they met, but this feels many worlds different, so he dismisses it. But still, the image of the Ryan from Ray’s nightmare flashes in his mind- teeth bared, snapping for his neck- and he simply cannot convince himself to believe it.

“Why is it so important that I wear the rose?” He asks instead of questioning Ryan’s innocence further.

He looks slightly taken aback by this. “It’s magic.”

“Yeah, no shit.” The manners ingrained in him are screaming. The many turbulent emotions rolling around in his mind do not give a flying fuck about manners right now.

“Er… Sorry, I figured that Jack would have told you right away.”

_Jack doesn’t know I still have it._ Is exactly what Ray is not going to fucking say right now.

“It’s connected to the other one you took from the bush, that day.” He reaches into his jacket and produces another pristine red blossom. “This one. If we both have them, we can always tell when the other rose is near, and we can feel it when the other person is holding theirs.”

“...Why?”

Ryan closes his eyes, briefly. Seems to make some kind of decision before he speaks. “Because there are some things that even the path can’t protect you from, and I want to make sure that I can be there to keep you safe. And I want you to know that I’m there. No silent stalking.”

Phantom memories of the warmth surrounding his hands make him want to tuck them into his pockets. He resists the urge, opting instead to climb to his feet. Ryan follows suit.

If he wastes anymore time dawdling, Jack will get on his ass for being late. There’s no need to worry him, so Ray decides that if Ryan wants to keep talking, he can keep up. And he does. Always leaving a gap of space between himself and the path- between himself and Ray.

“So, you can’t tell me who’s behind these attacks?” Ray eventually asks, if only to break the silence.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea, no.” Ryan replies.

Ray huffs. “Then, can you at least tell me why I need special protection?”

“You’re in the most danger.”

Ray stops mid step. He shakes his head and continues on. “What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re being targeted. And you’ve become the forbidden fruit. Sorry.”

“What?” The fuck is he talking about?

“Well, uh… Without going into too much detail, there was someone who wanted to hurt you on the day we met, but I intervened before they could. Since then, they’ve become obsessed with hunting you down because I have continually denied them access to you.”

“Whoa, what? I’m being _hunted_?”

“Yeah, that’s probably the most accurate way to describe it.” Ryan sighs. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you. There’s no point in getting you freaked out over something you can’t change.”

“I’d rather fucking know if something is trying to kill me than get mauled while blissfully ignorant.”

Ryan’s ears twitch. “Noted.”

Ray mulls over the new information for a few minutes. Was it really the roses that lured him off of the path, or was it actually something supernatural after all? It would be nice to write his impulsive disregard for his own safety off as being the fault of magic, but that’s kind of hard to accomplish when the thing he’s trying to hoist the blame off to is a nameless, faceless entity that so far exists exclusively in theory. His recollection of that first encounter is still relatively foggy. Maybe the weird trust dust in the air came from whatever is hunting him, and not from Ryan, like he’d been assuming.

...He left the path on his own before Ryan talked to him.

“Hey, Ryan?”

“Yes?”

“Would I have died if you hadn’t talked to me, that first time?”

“Yes.” There is no hesitation.

Silence falls once more. Ray senses that this moment is something of a mental crossroads. Either he trusts Ryan- takes him at his word- or he doesn’t. His heart has already made itself abundantly clear, so now is the time where he should probably see what his brain has to say on the matter.

If Ryan wanted him dead, couldn’t he have killed Ray by now?

They’ve been alone together on several occasions. Their first meeting, he was off of the path and completely defenseless. Ryan is capable of moving faster than Ray can even track, so his feeble speedwalk would not protect him from having his throat ripped out or his neck snapped or any other horrific gruesome fate.

Ray trusts him. That’s the reality here.

“Well, as cheerful as this conversation is, do you have anything you’d like to talk about?” Ray asks.

Ryan looks contemplative. His ears kind of point backwards while he puckers his lips and looks up, and it’s a startlingly natural blend of human and canine expression. He’s even tilting his head a bit.

“Well… I haven’t had a lot of free time recently, so I don’t have a ton to report about recent activities.”

Ray shrugs. “That’s cool. What do you do when you _do_ have free time?”

“I play a lot of video games.”

“No fucking way.” Ray grins. Jack and Geoff play a bit, but nowhere near as much as Ray. He pulls his DS out of his pouch. “Video games are the only thing that keep me sane in this fucking place. Like, what century is it? Why is everything so fucking old?”

Ryan laughs. “That’s the magic forest for you. People here are pretty set in their ways.”

“What systems do you have?”

“I prefer PC, but I do own a couple of consoles.” He must notice the unimpressed look Ray is giving him, because he shrugs and smiles. “I have an Xbox and a PS4, but they’re at my actual house. I haven’t been there in months.”

“Oh?”

Ryan shrugs. “Like I said. I’ve been busy.”

“Where are you staying?”

He shrugs again. “You know. Around.”

The fuck does that mean? There are no hotels for miles and miles. The forest itself is quite expansive, but the area around it is largely unpopulated. Few normal humans are willing to be even near the vicinity of the woods. From what Ray understands, this place has a bit of a reputation.

“When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”

Ryan tilts his head to the side and considers. “Five months, I think?”

“What?!” Ray shouts. “Where the fuck _do_ you?”

“Well, I don’t actually sleep all that much. The human part wants to be awake during the day and the wolf part wants to be awake during the night. I guess I’m kind of an insomniac. But when I have nothing left, I usually find a good tree and pass out in one of the sturdier forks.”

Ray imagines Ryan curled up in the branches of one of the towering oaks. It’s a funny picture.

“What business does a wolf have climbing a tree?”

He chuckles. “It’s not very safe on the ground, when you don’t have a pack watching out for you.” His smile turns sort of melancholy. Ray is curious, but he doesn’t ask.

“Well, maybe you can stay with Jack and me.”

Ryan barks out a short laugh. “He wouldn’t let me within a hundred yards of his house, I assure you.”

A short stab of anxiety hits his chest. “Why not?”

“He’s among the company that believes I’ve been rampaging around killing and stealing everyone and everything I come across, respectively. Not exactly someone you want around your kid.”

There’s a short silence. “Do you know who’s really responsible?”

Ryan hesitates, then nods slowly.

“Why not just tell everyone?”

“I can’t prove it, for one. But the main reason will probably sound kind of strange.”

“Hit me.”

“I have to deal with this myself. It’s my responsibility.”

“Why?”

He purses his lips. “It’s complicated.”

“Dude,” Ray says. “You sound like a shitty facebook post.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, well… What’s your favorite game?”

“Hmm… That’s not an easy question to answer.”

“What?” Ray replies with a snort. “Of course it is.”

“Oh, really? If it’s so easy, what’s yours?”

“Tetris.”

“Tetris?”

“Tetris.” Ray repeats. “It’s relaxing. You don’t have to think all that hard about it, and the music is really soothing.”

“I suppose that makes sense. If I had to choose… I like Fallout 3.”

“Oh, sweet. On PC, I’m sure.”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever play mods?”

“Uh, a few, to make it prettier.”

“Pfff. Vanilla.”

Ryan crosses his arms. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with vanilla.”

“You should try chocolate some time.” Ray says.

And then thinks about what he just said.

And then turns bright fucking red.

Ryan raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. Ray has never felt more grateful for any reason in his entire life.

“...So, what do you play Tetris on?”

They discuss various games and the legitimacy of using GamerScore as a way to quantify skill. Conversation flows naturally between them as if they’ve been friends forever, and Ray revels in the sweet comfort that surrounds him as he finds he has more and more in common with Ryan. Their senses of humor match up pretty well- though, where Ray is self-deprecating, Ryan is mockingly critical of innocuous things. _Complimentary_ , Ray thinks the word is. And it has been a very long time since he has connected like this with someone. They’ve just broken into the abundance of meaningless achievements attached to paid services like Netflix when the white picket fence denoting the edge of Lindsay’s property appears through the trees.

Ray hesitates and glances at Ryan.

“It’s okay. I’ll hang back. Uh, unless you want to walk home by yourself, but… That’s probably not a great idea, actually. I could just be quiet?”

Oh god, he’s so awkward. It’s incredible. “Nah, we can walk together. I’ll be right back.”

The universe must have a very keen sense of when someone is in a hurry, because it immediately throws every inconvenience possible their way, out of spite. Lindsay invites him in and insists that he tries the rose hip tea that Arryn shipped her from out East. He would normally be all about that, so he has to sit through sipping from one of Lindsay’s many cat-themed teacups while she attempts to pet Ruby and is repeatedly rejected.

He’s just reached the bottom of his cup when Hilda struts in.

“Hello, Hilda.” Lindsay pats her lap and watches Hilda expectantly. Normally, now is the time when she would leap up and receive a shower of pets while giving Ray the stink eye. But she doesn’t do that this time, instead opting to jump onto the window sill and stare out at the treeline, hackles raised. Ruby watches this unfold from where she is perched precariously on the couch just far enough that Lindsay can’t reach her. After a moment, her tail puffs up and she hisses quietly.

Lindsay sets her cup down with an audible clang of porcelain on birch and springs up from her seat. Ray has a creeping feeling that he knows what’s about to happen, and he really, _really_ wishes he had a way to stop it. But he doesn’t- he can only delay.

“What’s going on?”

“Something’s outside.”

Uh oh. “What is it?”

Lindsay narrows her eyes. “Trouble.”

He watches, helpless, as she pulls out her communicator and sends out a message. Then she’s heading for the door and Ray is up on his feet, following her. He prays to whoever, _whatever_ is listening that Ryan will figure out that something is wrong and hide.

But he isn’t hiding.

Ryan is standing in plain view, a few feet from the front gate. His hands are in his pockets and his posture is relaxed, but his tail is swishing behind him. Lindsay holds up the shotgun that she seems to have acquired on the way out here and points it at him.

“Linds-” Ray starts, but she begins talking over him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Ryan is quiet for a moment. He isn’t moving, really- just watching. Eventually, he takes a deep breath, looks at the ground for a moment, then returns to meet Lindsay’s gaze. “I’m not here to cause harm.”

“Oh?” Lindsay snorts incredulously. “How do you define harm, then? Because I’d say you’ve caused _plenty._ ”

He takes his hands out of his pockets and slowly raises them to mid-chest level, palms out. “We’re on the same side. The man you’re after- the one responsible for recent… unpleasantries- I’m also searching for him.”

“You know who it is?”

Ryan nods.

“And why should I trust you?”

He bites his lip for a moment before responding.

“Meg Turney.”

Lindsay stiffens. Her eyes go wide and she lowers the gun until it’s pointing at the ground.

“...How do you know that name?” She asks in a carefully controlled voice.

“She’s… Well, Meg is a close friend of mine.”

There’s a few moments of tense silence while his words hang in the air. _A Mexican standoff,_ Ray’s brain helpfully supplies. _And I’m not even Mexican._

Finally, Lindsay sighs. “Okay.” She says. “Okay, I trust you.”

Ryan visibly relaxes.

“But.” Ray ceases his silent relief as she continues. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

 

They sit around the little birch coffee table and Ryan talks.

The cats hang around in the doorways and watch him recount his first meeting with Ray, and his subsequent impromptu protection. He mentions the rose and Ray becomes uncomfortably aware of its absence on his hood. Ryan leaves out the same details as he did before- any information about his reason for being in the forest or the man he was chasing. Lindsay listens silently throughout and waits until Ryan is finished to comment.

“There’s no point in hiding things. If I’m going to help you, I need to know everything.”

Ryan glances briefly at Ray.

Lindsay notices this. “If he’s in as much danger as you say he is, then he deserves to know what he’s up against.”

His ears flatten against the top of his head and Ryan sighs. “That’s not… Nevermind. It’s fine.”

And then he fills in the blanks.

Edgar is a wolf hybrid who came from the same pack as Ryan. The details are sparing in this part of the story, but Ray gathers that Edgar did something terrible when Ryan was on guard, and he couldn’t stop him. He went after Edgar in hopes of redeeming himself. But Edgar is apparently very good at being scarce when he needs to be, so Ryan’s first week was spent in frustration while Edgar began causing havoc. The main defenders of the forest knew only that the attacker was a wolf hybrid, and they made assumptions when they saw Ryan; as a result, he was contending with being actively hunted while he himself tried to hunt an elusive target. Now, three months later, he’s dropped the majority of his efforts toward finding Edgar and is instead trying to protect Ray.

“It’s my fault that he’s out here, and it’s my fault that he’s so obsessed with getting to you. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe until I can find a way to contain him.”

...Oh.

He was only ever hanging around Ray out of obligation. Not because he actually wanted to. This revelation makes Ray purse his lips and subtly shrink inward on himself.

“Did it ever occur to you that you could prove your innocence by staying in custody until another crime happened?” Lindsay asks.

Ryan huffs. “Yes. But that would waste time, and someone would have to get hurt. It wasn’t worth it.”

She nods slowly. “Okay, that’s fair. But what was your plan, long term? Because your strategy clearly wasn’t working.”

He ducks his head and looks away, ears flat against his head.

“Of course. Well, luckily for you, I have an idea.”

At that moment, the front door is violently flung open and Michael sprints into the room, gun raised. “Don’t fucking move!”

“Jesus Christ!” Ray shouts, scrambling backward.

“Michael, wait!” Lindsay exclaims at the same time.

Ryan’s eyes are wide but he doesn’t move.

It’s still for a tense second, then Michael looks over at Lindsay. “What do you mean, _wait_?”

“This isn’t our guy. I was wrong.”

“This isn’t- What the fuck are you _talking_ about?” He furrows his brows and cocks his head toward Ryan. “Wolf guy. Runs when confronted. _Our fucking guy_.”

“No, he’s not. Put the gun down, dumbass.”

To Ray’s surprise, he instantly complies- but he keeps his hands in position. “Okay…?”

“Michael, this is Ryan. He’s been tracking down the same guy as us.”

Michael looks Ryan up and down and purses his lips. “This is the one that Gav shot at the other day. The one that’s been hanging around…” He trails off and seems to notice Ray, still pressed against the back of the couch as if he could squish flat into it and become invisible. “Shit. Uh… Hi, Ray.”

“Hey.” Ray replies. His heart is still thundering in his fucking chest, but his breathing is getting back to normal, at least. “Ryan’s cool. Please don’t shoot him.”

Michael looks back to Lindsay. She raises and eyebrow. After a moment, he begrudgingly returns the gun to a safe position on his belt, then takes the only available seat, next to Ray on the couch. “What the fuck is going on?”

Lindsay relays a short version of Ryan’s story. Michael listens with intent concentration. When she’s done, he sits back and tilts his head up toward the ceiling.

“If you trust him, then I trust him.” He eventually says.

Apparently sensing the commotion has ended, Ruby trots back into the room- followed by a more cautious Hilda- and beelines for Ray, as usual. Hilda stops partway into the room and looks around in a manner that Ray can only think of as _assessing._

“Okay. We need to figure out what we’re going to do now.” Lindsay says.

“Ryan needs a more permanent place to stay.” Ray adds. Ruby starts purring in his lap.

Michael’s eyes narrow. “Where _have_ you been staying?”

Ryan shrugs. “In trees, mostly.”

Michael blinks a few times. “That’s…” He purses his lips.

“What?”

“I… That’s not how I thought your voice would sound.”

Ray snorts. Michael shoots him a withering look.

“Sorry to disappoint?” Ryan says.

“You can stay here.” Lindsay says, and it’s not an offer, exactly- more like a statement of inevitability. _It’s not like he has anywhere else to go,_ Ray thinks to himself.

“Thank you.”

“I don’t have an extra bedroom, though, so you’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

“That’s fine. It’s an improvement over the branches.”

“Alright, what else…” Lindsay claps her hands together. “We should let people know that you’re not a threat. So they don’t kill you.”

“That might be good.” Ryan replies. “I prefer not to be killed, if at all possible.”

“I’ll talk to Gav.” Michael crosses his arms.

Hilda suddenly makes her move. She jumps into Ryan’s lap and climbs up so her paws are against his chest, then starts meowing insistently in his face. His head snaps back and his lip curls a bit, but he doesn’t react otherwise.

“Hilda, what’s up?” Lindsay asks, but she just keeps meowing and making eye contact with Ryan. Ray notices his tail is now twitching slightly beside his leg.

“Please. Make her stop.” He grinds out through clenched teeth.

Lindsay hurriedly stands and picks her up. Once in her arms, Hilda relaxes completely and switches from yowling to purring.

Lindsay straightens suddenly. “What time is it?”

Michael glances at his communicator. “About seven.”

“Oh, shit.” Ray and Lindsay say in synchrony. Ryan and Michael give them twin looks of confusion.

“Jack expected me back, like, twenty minutes ago,” Ray says, jumping up and gathering his belongings. “Oh man. He is going to be _so pissed._ ”

“I’ll send him a message-” Lindsay starts.

“Wait- Please.” Ray interrupts. “Don’t tell him about Ryan.”

Her worried expression melts into confusion. “Why?”

Ray doesn’t know how to answer that question. Because… Because Ryan is… If Jack knew, then…

“Please,” he repeats.

Lindsay worries her lip for a moment before nodding. “Just get home. Hurry.”

“He can’t go by himself,” Michael points out. “If what, uh, _he_ said is true, then the path isn’t going to do jack shit.”

“I’ll go with him.” Ryan says.

The prospect of walking alone with him is exciting for about half a second before Ray remembers that Ryan is just there to protect him, and the bitter disappointment and hint of embarrassment return to the forefront of his attention.

The three of them head in the same direction for about half of the journey. Michael continues to glance at Ryan every few moments up until they take different directions at a fork, at which point he exchanges a terse farewell with Ray and walks steadfastly down his path.

“...I get the feeling that he doesn’t approve of me.” Ryan says once they’re out of earshot.

Ray huffs out a reply. “No?”

“He kept looking at me like he was only a few seconds from threatening me with that shotgun.”

“Huh.” And okay, maybe he’s feeling a little bitter right now. It’s not Ryan’s fault that Ray made assumptions. Then again, Ryan didn’t have to make it seem like they were… That they could be... Friends.

“Hey, is something wrong?”

“What?”

“You just seem kind of upset about something.”

“Oh.” Why is he asking? It’s not like he-

Wait. _Wait._ He’s asking. He’s asking because probably wants to know the answer. Which would imply that, at least on some level, Ryan cares.

“Are we friends?”

Ryan looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, I would think so. Unless you don’t want to…?”

“No, no, I do, it’s just that…” Well, there’s no way to say this elegantly, so Ray decides to just get it out. “When you said you were protecting me, I thought that maybe you were only talking with me because you felt obligated.”

“Of course not. Although, I can understand why you would feel that way. No, I talk to you because I _want_ to. You’re a really interesting person.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s… Good. Thanks.”

There’s an awkward pause. Ray tolerates it for a few seconds and then the blush rising to his cheeks is too much, and he speaks.

“So, Michael was being threatening?”

“Well, not exactly. But he was scowling like his life depended on it. I think he might think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“Ryan, please. It’s not like he’s my doting father trying to protect me on prom night. I mean, I met the guy, like, two weeks ago.”

“Am I the date in this metaphor?”

...Fuck. Oops. “I don’t know- I guess? I didn’t really think it through.” He’s grumbling by the end of his reply.

Ryan chuckles. “All for the best, really. I’m too old for you.”

“How old are you?” Ray asks automatically.

“That’s… Sort of a complicated question. Or, really, the _answer_ is complicated.”

Ray waits for him to continue. When he still hasn’t after half a minute, he makes a rolling motion with his hand, like, _go on._

“I guess you could say that my physical age doesn’t match up with my real age.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s like I said- It’s complicated. Wolves have some pretty strange biology.”

“Like how you can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, like that.” Ryan nods. “I guess you could say that I’m missing some time, mentally. Like my body has existed for longer than my consciousness.”

“Okay… Then how old are you mentally?”

He pauses. Ray is about to prompt him again when he realizes that Ryan is actually _thinking_ about it.

“Uh… 21, I think?”

“...You think.”

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to quantify the passage of time when you aren’t aware of it.”

“Why is out of synch?”

“I’m missing some years.”

“ _Years,_ ” Ray repeats.

“About five of them, if my estimate is correct.”

“You’re 26?”

“Well… Yes and no. I’ve technically been alive for 26 years, yes. But I’ve only been _awake_ for 21.”

“Awake- No. No fucking way. You do not _hibernate_.”

“For two and a half months a year, every year.”

Ray shakes his head. “You’re shitting me.”

“Needless complication seems to be a common theme in wolf physiology. It’s the tradeoff for being able to see in the dark.”

“Huh.” Ray supposes that if Ryan were used to hibernating for whole _months,_ sleeping in trees probably isn’t as big of a deal. “Do you _have_ to hibernate?”

“No. But if I don’t, I have to actually adhere to a normal sleep schedule to make up for it, so in a pack setting it’s generally safer to get the sleeping done all at once.”

Pack setting. Pack.

That’s right.

Ryan has a pack.

A pack that he’ll want to return to, when this is all over.

It’s quiet for a few minutes. They’re just a couple of corners from his house.

“...Are you okay?” Ryan asks quietly.

“What?” Ray realizes he’s been staring at the ground. He forces a smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not usually this quiet.”

“Oh. It’s nothing.”

Ryan stops. Ray turns and his expression is painted with worry. “Did I say something?”

“No, no!” Ray holds his hands up. “You didn’t. It’s just… You have a pack, right?”

Ryan bites his lip and sighs. “Ray…”

“You’ll go back to them. After all of this.”

“Well-”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Of course you’d want to go back.” Ray shakes his head. “You should probably head back to Lindsay’s. We’re almost to my house, and Jack’s home, so…”

“...Okay.” Ryan crosses his arms and looks off into the trees. “Have a good night, Ray.”

“Yeah,” He replies. “You too.”

Ray lies awake in bed, holding the rose, for several hours. He’s gazing at the moon through his window when a sudden rush of warmth encompasses his hands. It relaxes him enough to finally fall into a dreamless sleep.

 

Sometimes, an innate feeling that you’re being watched hits with such strength that it consumes all of your conscious attention. Ray is overwhelmed by that sensation from the moment he wakes up.

He sits up violently enough to pop his back.

Standing in his doorway is Jack, arms crossed, watching Ray with a frown.

“Uh…”

“Good morning, Ray.” His voice is tight and controlled. The last time Ray heard Jack use that voice was when he was fourteen and he tried to brew a potion that would make his focus better- perfecting Bloodborne was a bitch- while Jack was away. This was back before he was allowed (forced, really) to start making deliveries. Ray, of course, knew nothing about brewing outside of what the few tomes sitting around could tell him, so he ended up drinking something that was two steps away from arsenic. He woke up in Caleb’s makeshift doctor’s office with a furious and terrified Mama Jack to contend with.

“What’s up?” His hands curl inward instinctively and he realizes that he’s still holding the rose. Ray whips his hand behind his back. Yeah, like that’ll keep Jack from having seen it.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

Oh, fuck. It’s gonna be one of _these_ talks. He’ll be left wondering how much Jack knows until he inevitably gives everything up inadvertently.

Well, he’s already in it. May as well go full on petulant.

“I’m sure there’s something you _want_ me to say, so it would probably be faster if we just skip to you telling me what I did.”

Jack crosses his arms and scrunches his eyebrows together. “Please don’t turn this into an argument.”

“What else would it be?”

He sighs. “I was hoping for a discussion.”

Ray brings the rose back to his front and stares at it. The warmth is missing. “About what?”

“The man who’s been stalking you.”

“He’s not stalking me-”

“He’s dangerous, Ray. I didn’t want to freak you out before, but he’s been killing people in some pretty disturbing ways over the last month or so.”

“It’s not him.” Ray mutters.

“Yes, it is. He’s been almost caught in the act several times now.”

“No.” Ray replies. He looks up at Jack and cannot keep himself from glaring. “A _wolf_ was almost caught. Not Ryan specifically. There’s no proof that he’s the one who was responsible.”

“Except for the fact that he’s the only wolf that’s been in this area in four decades?”

“There’s two.”

“Have you _seen_ two different wolves?”

“Well, no, but-”

“So you’re just taking his word for it.” Jack reaches up to comb a hand through his hair for a moment. “He’s not trustworthy.”

“Why? Because he’s a wolf?” Ray turns and swings his feet onto the ground.

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” Ray stands. Even while slouching, Jack is a full head taller than him, not to mention his broad shoulders and heavyset frame. Still, he stands with a challenge in his eyes when he continues. “What makes him untrustworthy?”

Jack opens his mouth, then shuts it. He shakes his head. “I’m not doing this. I don’t want to argue.”

“So you don’t have an actual reason.”

“I just want you to be safe-”

“Then stop trying to hurt Ryan!” Ray cries. “He’s been protecting me, all this time.”

“By following you around when you’re alone?”

“I wasn’t alone. I was being followed by the killer, who is a _separate person from Ryan_.”

“Ray…” Jack pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment. “You can’t know for sure.”

And then it hits him. “...You don’t trust me.”

“What?” Jack looks back over at him.

“You don’t trust me,” Ray repeats. “You don’t trust my judgement.”

“That’s not fair-”

“You don’t think I can figure out the difference between a fucking psychopathic killer and a random citizen.”

Jack dips his head. “You’re young, Ray.”

“I’m almost an adult, but you’re _still_ treating me like a little kid. Why is that?”

His brow furrows. “I don’t treat you like a kid.”

“No?” Ray scoffs. “So, you’re telling me that dismissing my experience in favor of second or third-hand information is treating me like an _adult_?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what _are_ you saying?”

Jack doesn’t reply.

Ray grabs his hood off of the floor and wrestles his way into it, then affixes the rose to its rightful place over his heart. Jack is blocking the door, so he walks over to the window, throws it open, and vaults over the sill.

“Where are you going?” Jack calls.

“To talk to someone who actually trusts me.” Ray replies. He pulls his hood up so far it almost covers his eyes, then walks away. Jack doesn’t follow him.

He’s not usually out and about at this hour- the air is still crisp with the previous night’s cold and it’s filled with morning birdsong. It’s summer, but the forest climate still allows for low enough temperatures to make his breath billow faintly on every exhale. The anger he feels is making Ray’s head buzz. He wants to scream and tear his hair out and physically abuse the trees, but he does none of these things; the threat of Edgar lurking around somewhere puts an urgency in his pace that he cannot risk slowing.

The sun hasn’t risen high enough to pierce through the canopy. It’s darker than Ray has seen in a long time. The colors are dulled and muted versions of themselves, and it makes the world around him seem like a shitty picture of itself, and Ray doesn’t fit, and it doesn’t feel right.

It’s a relief to round the final corner and see the fence peeking between the trees. He wonders offhandedly if Ryan is still there, and finds that he knows the answer, somehow- he is just… Aware of Ryan’s presence, somewhere inside the house. Must be the rose.

Michael is sitting on the patio bench with his gun loosely held across his chest. He gives Ray a short glance as he cautiously approaches.

“Uh… Hey.”

“Hey.” Michael replies. He’s returned to scanning the treeline and takes a moment to reply.

“What’s going on?”

“Lindsay will tell you.” And that’s apparently all of the attention that Michael will be sparing. Ray doesn’t bother knocking on the door, and finds that it’s unlocked.

He is immediately accosted by cats upon entering. That’s not exactly unusual for visits to Lindsay, but what _is_ unusual is rounding the corner into the main living space and seeing Ryan passed out while sitting up on the couch, quietly snoring. Ray may have known he was there, but he wasn’t expecting him to be _asleep._

Lindsay looks up from the large book tucked into her lap and gives Ray a tired smile.

“Jack found out?” She asks.

Ray nods and sits gently next to Ryan, watching to make sure he doesn’t disturb his sleep.

“Oh, don’t worry about waking him up. That fucker is out cold. Ruby used his chest as a launch pad earlier and he didn’t even stir.”

Huh. Good to know. Ray settles more comfortably into the seat and watches Ryan for a few moments while he tries to let the anger and frustration go. Those feelings won’t help him now. Ryan’s breathing is even and every once in a while, his ears and tail will twitch slightly, as if he’s dreaming about something. Maybe he’ll ask when Ryan wakes up.

He looks different, like this. Sleep brings a tranquil slackness to his features that Ray has not seen before. The dark bags under his eyes seem less intense.

“How’d you know?” He asks after a while.

“Know what?”

“That Jack found out.”

She closes the book and sighs. “Last night was kind of a shit show. Michael went and talked to Gavin about Ryan, but Gavin didn’t take it so well- apparently, Geoff’s been filling his head with all sorts of garbage, and Gavin is convinced that Ryan is a threat that must be eliminated. Michael refused to tell him where Ryan was hiding, so Gavin kicked him out.”

A wave of guilt passes over him. They’re fighting, and it’s ultimately his fault. He’s the one who brought Ryan here, after all. They would have gone on as usual had he not interfered. But… This is important. Ryan is innocent, and the real culprit needs to be caught.

“We’re assuming that Gavin went directly to Geoff after that. He would no doubt have told Jack. Michael’s keeping watch right now. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out where we are and come looking.”

“What happens when they do?” Ray asks. His voice takes on a nervous tremor.

“We’ll talk to them.” Lindsay replies, firmly. “And they _will_ listen.”

That does little to comfort Ray. The thought of standing in opposition to Geoff is bad enough, but adding _Jack_ to the mix- no, no, no. That’s too much. He can’t think about that right now or he’ll paralyze himself with anxiety. For now, he needs to assume that they’ll listen to reason when Lindsay is involved. She tends to be among the more level headed folk around the forest, so that must put merit into her opinion. Right?

...Why does she trust Ryan, again?

Ray recalls the previous day’s conversation. She was pointing a gun at Ryan one second, and after hearing a name, she stood down. What was it… Mel? Marg? No. It was… Meg.

“Who’s Meg?” Ray asks.

Lindsay snaps up to look at him with wide eyes. She relaxes in the same second, but the short burst of shock was evident in her features. Whoever this Meg person is, she must be pretty damn significant- at least to Lindsay.

“Well, uh…” She scratches the back of her head and looks off to the side. “Meg is… Someone that I’ve known for a long time. She’s a wolf, too, but she’s not part of a pack like Ryan; she travels around on her own for the most part.”

Ray can’t think of a less blunt way to ask the question, so he just blurts, “What makes her so important?”

Lindsay’s cheeks take on a hint of red. “She’s someone that I trusted. We were really close.”

This is all making sense so far, but Ray still doesn’t know why Ryan knowing her name warrants an instant grant of trust and protection. “Why did you… Why is it weird that Ryan knows her?”

“Well, it isn’t weird, exactly. But she tends to put on a different persona depending on who she’s talking to, and it’s beyond rare for her to trust someone enough to give them her real name. Most of the people who have met her know her by a bunch of different aliases. It surprises me a lot that she told Ryan. But I trust her judgement.”

Ray wonders if Meg is her real name. He does not vocalize this curiosity.

Ryan snorts and shifts around. His eyes open slowly, fluttering shut and shifting into a squint at the light filtering in through the curtains. It takes him about twenty seconds of half-consciousness to realize that Ray is seated beside him. His ears perk up and he inhales sharply in surprise, then smiles with a startling amount of energy for someone who was out cold less than a minute ago.

“Ray.”

Ray finds himself smiling back. “Ryan.”

Lindsay clears her throat, and Ray looks away and definitely doesn’t blush, no sir.

“Okay, so. We have to figure out what the hell we’re going to do, moving forward.”

“Right.” Ray says. “Jack is firmly in the Ryan Sucks Camp, so he’s not going to be much help.”

“It doesn’t matter what they think about me,” Ryan replies. “He needs to be stopped. That’s the most important thing.”

“How are we gonna do that?” Lindsay crosses one leg over the other and leans forward. “You chased him for _months_ without success, and now you have a band of pissed off overpowered assholes on your tail and a ki-” she pauses.  “-bystander to protect.”

Ray swallows the flash of irritation over being referred to as a kid and looks to Ryan for his reaction. His expression has tightened significantly and he staring at a fixed point on the carpet.

“...So?” Lindsay asks.

“I…” Ryan briefly covers his eyes with one hand, then rubs them and looks up. “I need help.”

“Who’s left to get help from?” Ray asks. Practically everyone who would be any kind of useful in battle is turned against them at this point. There aren’t a ton of people left to convince.

Lindsay smiles and plucks her communicator from the table. “An old friend.”

She wanders into the kitchen to make her call, leaving Ray and Ryan alone in the living room.

He feels his stomach flutter slightly as the situation sinks in. Which is dumb. It’s just Ryan, the cool guy who he’s been hanging out with recently. That’s all. No need to be nervous.

“I, uh… I didn’t get a chance to tell you this last night, but I want to. So.” Ryan clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably. Ray is watching his face, but Ryan is looking off to the side. “We talked about some things pertaining to packs, and how I would want to go back. And normally, you’d be right.”

Ray tries to dismiss the sinking uncertainty in his stomach. “But?”

“But I can’t.”

“You… can’t?”

“I can’t.” Ryan repeats. “I was banished.”

He looks despondent. “Why?” Ray asks quietly.

“I was the one on watch when Edgar… It was my job to stop him, and because I didn’t, I was held accountable for everything he did that night.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Ray realizes he spoke aloud and covers his mouth. “Fuck. Sorry.”

Ryan shakes his head slowly, still not looking at Ray. “I understand why it would seem that way, from the outside.”

He sits and absorbs the new information for several moments. The discomfort of culture shock is distinct in Ray’s mind as he pictures it- Ryan being berated and cast out by the people he loves, left to find his own way in a life he never had.

“Why,” Ray starts, then his voice dies out. He clears his throat and tries again. “Why is it so important for you to catch Edgar, if you’re already banished?”

Ryan takes a deep breath before he replies. “He’s not going to stop. He’ll just keep spreading destruction until the day he dies. I’m the one who failed to contain him, so I should be the one who puts him down.”

Ray wants to disagree, to insist that Ryan shouldn’t be held accountable for Edgar, but he sees the darkness in his eyes and the exhausted sorrow in his features and knows that Ryan can no longer back out of this. He’s been fighting this battle for so long, now, and it’s become the only thing he has. As much as it worries Ray to have Ryan remain in danger, he cannot take this away from him.

Lindsay walks back into the living room. “She’s on her way.”

“How long?” Ryan asks.

“She’ll arrive this evening.” Lindsay replies.

“Who is ‘she’?” Ray has a feeling he already knows the answer, but he might as well ask.

“Meg.” Ryan and Lindsay say at the same time.

Yep. That’s what he thought.

Lindsay’s communicator starts freaking out in her hand. It’s flashing and playing a shrill alarm three times a second without pause. She doesn’t even look at it- just hits a button, tosses it back onto the table, and strides toward the door. Ryan has tensed up beside Ray. He’s craning his neck to stare at the shuttered window with both ears swivelled as close to its direction as they can go.

Lindsay turns sharply back to look at them. “Hide.” She hisses.

Ryan seems frozen in place. Ray jumps to his feet and grabs onto Ryan’s left arm with both hands, then attempts to haul him to his feet. He snaps out of it, stands, and hurries toward Lindsay’s bedroom.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” Ray whispers as he follows close behind.

“They found me.” They reach the doorway. Ryan hesitates for a moment, glancing at the closet door, then back at Ray. “You should be fine. Just stay behind Michael and Lindsay-”

“I can take care of myself.”

Ryan nods and takes a step backwards. Ray pulls the door shut. He rests his hand on the wood for a few moments, then makes his way back to the front door and peeks outside.

Yet another Mexican standoff.

Lindsay and Michael are both pointing guns at a face that is, for once, familiar to Ray. He’s wearing what looks like old leather armor that’s been dyed near-white, either by actual bleach or by exposure to the sun. A shotgun is strapped across his back. And… He’s wearing his signature aviators.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Jeremy?” Lindsay calls.

Ray would love to hear the answer. He hasn’t seen Jeremy in over a month, since he took off on his mysterious field trip to the ‘civilized world’.

Jeremy puts his hands up placatingly and tilts his head to the side. “I’m here to talk.”

She hesitates, sighs, then lowers her gun and gestures for Michael to do the same.

Jeremy takes a step forward and the guns are right back on him. It makes Ray flinch. “We can talk from here.” Lindsay says firmly.

“Okay. That’s fine.” Jeremy crosses his arms and waits until they lower their guns once more.

“So?” Lindsay prompts.

“Geoff sent me over here to look for a criminal. Some kind of wolf hybrid?”

“Well, you can go and tell Geoff that he’s not here.”

“Alright.” He bites his inner lip for a moment. “So, I just got back in town, and it seems like a bunch of shit happened while I was away? Would you mind possibly filling me in on it?”

“Why don’t you ask Geoff?” Michael says.

Jeremy shrugs. “I tried, but he just sent me over here with barely a ‘hello.’ You know how he is.”

“That’s pretty much what’s happening here.” Lindsay starts. “Everyone made an assumption about someone innocent, and we were all trying to stop him, but it turns out that he’s on our side. But Geoff won’t hear a word of it; he’s already made up his mind.”

“How do you know that he’s innocent?” Unlike the other times Ray has heard this sentiment expressed, Jeremy somehow makes the question sound genuinely curious, rather than condescending or accusatory. He’s always been level-headed. Maybe he’ll be able to talk some sense into Geoff… If Lindsay can convince him of Ryan’s innocence.

“A very reliable source is testifying to his character.”

He nods. “Okay. So, you’re saying that he’s definitely not here?”

Michael’s head turns slightly toward Lindsay. It’s just enough for him to spot Ray in his peripheral vision.

Busted.

“Ray, get back inside.” Michael commands.

“Did you just say that Ray is in there?” Jeremy calls. Ray freezes and Michael stiffens.

Lindsay sighs irritably and beckons Ray. “Just come out. He already knows you’re here.”

Ray slips out the door and shuts it firmly behind himself.

It’s difficult to tell what exactly Jeremy is looking at with the shades, but Ray has the distinct feeling of being examined closely until he drops his arms to his side and nods. “Pattillo’s been worried about you.”

A stab of guilt in his chest makes Ray grab his arm with the other hand. He tries to remind himself that he’s mad at Jack right now. It doesn’t help.

“He’s under my care. Tell Jack that he’s fine.” Lindsay says. There’s not really any room for defiance against her words.

Jeremy shrugs. “Sure. Thanks, guys. I’ll let Geoff know that Ryan’s not here, too.”

“Thank you.” Lindsay doesn’t sound like she means it.

Without another word, Jeremy turns and strides back into the trees. Ray watches him go and tries not to flinch when he wonders how many relationships he’s going to end up souring before this whole thing is over. Lindsay and Michael don’t relax until long after he’s out of sight.

Michael throws his head back and groans. “Awesome. Fucking _awesome._ ”

“We knew this was coming, Michael. Reel in the drama.”

Michael gives her a withering look.

“So, either they’ll be back in an hour, or they’ll be back in a day. At least we know now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael grumbles. He strides back up onto the porch and takes his seat again.

Lindsay heads back inside. Ray follows close behind.

“Ryan?” She calls.

A few moments later, her bedroom door opens and he emerges. “Who was it?”

“Jeremy.”

Ryan tilts his head to the side. “I don’t know him.”

She nods. “Makes sense. He went out of town a few weeks before you came.”

“What was he doing?” Ray asks.

Lindsay shrugs. “I tried asking when he came by to let me know he was leaving, but he wouldn’t say. I figured it was personal, so I left it alone.”

“He went out of the forest.” Ray explains.

Lindsay shoots him a questioning look.

“I don’t really know why, or where exactly he went,” Ray quickly tacks on. “I just know that he said he had to go to the outside world. Said he had business there.”

Ryan looks thoughtful, but he doesn’t add anything.

They end up returning to their original spots in the living room. Lindsay reads her book while Ray plays Animal Crossing and Ryan leans over to watch. After a little while, Lindsay wanders out to swap with Michael, and he comes in and pulls a small leatherbound book from somewhere on his person and begins flipping through it.

“What’s that thing on the ground?” Ryan asks as Ray guides his character through his village.

“Uh… It’s a fossil. Or a pitfall.”

“Pitfall?”

“Yeah. If you or one of the villagers walk over it, you fall into a little pit. Pitfall.”

“Can you escape?”

“Yeah, but it takes a few seconds, and your character kinda freaks out while they’re trying to get out.”

Ryan contemplates this for a few moments. “You should push someone into a pitfall, Ray.”

Ray smiles. “Why?”

“I want to see.”

He guides digs up the spot and finds that it’s a fossil. Ryan makes a disappointed noise.

“Don’t worry,” Ray placates. “There’s always at least one somewhere in town.”

He eventually finds it along the coastline and picks it up. “Okay, who am I pushing?”

“I get to pick?” Ryan sounds genuinely pleased when Ray nods. “What are my options?”

“Let’s see who’s wandering around.” Ray does a quick lap and finds a few villagers. At Ryan’s insistence, he talks to each of them so he can ‘evaluate their worthiness.’

“Who’s that guy?” Ryan points at the wolf in the corner of the screen.

“Lobo.” Ray replies.

“‘Lobo,’” Ryan repeats. “That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“‘Lobo’ means wolf. He’s a wolf.”

“Oh.” Ray squints at the screen. “I suddenly like him a lot less.”

Ryan chuckles as Ray approaches Lobo and initiates dialogue that he’s only paying half attention to. Until Ryan asks, “Tomorrow is your birthday?”

Ray looks closer. Lobo is remarking about the party his villagers have planned for him.

...Huh. It _is_ Ray’s birthday tomorrow. With the excitement of the last couple of days, it had been firmly banished from the realm of his mind that he bothers spending consciousness on.

“...I guess so.” Ray replies.

“How old will you be?”

“Eighteen.”

Ryan hums and nods.

“So, uh, have you decided who you want to see pushed into a pitfall?”

“Patty.” Ryan replies instantly. “She’s too happy. I don’t trust it. Put her in the hole.”

Ray smiles and shakes his head at Ryan’s phrasing, then tracks the offending cow down and pushes her into the pitfall seed. Ryan laughs as she struggles.

“You’re fucking weird, dude.” Ray says, but he’s smiling.

Time passes along like that, with Ray doing odd jobs around his village and Ryan making the occasional comment. He runs out of things to do around the same time that Lindsay comes back inside and informs them that it’s lunchtime.

“I’ve got stuff for sandwiches.” Lindsay announces. They take turns putting together sliced cheese and cold cuts, and Ray has to remove Ruby from the counter four times while Ryan rushes through making a ham sandwich. It’s a standard lunch. Ray’s not complaining, though. Free food is free food.

“Sorry this isn’t too fancy,” Lindsay says. “I’m a shit cook. It’s a small wonder that I don’t manage to burn cereal.”

“No worries,” Ray replies through a mouthful of turkey and pepperjack. “It’s good.”

“Um… I can help with dinner, if you want.” Ryan adds.

Michael furrows his brows. “ _You_ know how to cook?”

Ryan shrugs and looks a bit sheepish. “I mean, I know the basics. I’ve been told I make a mean enchilada.”

Ray wants to watch Ryan make enchiladas- the idea of him fluttering about in the kitchen is endearing in ways that he can’t explain. Ray wonders if Ryan is as graceful when he cooks as he is when he’s navigating the forest.

But Lindsay is waving her hand. “No, you’re a guest. You don’t need to. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“I’m holding you to it.” Michael says, looking intensely at Ryan. “At some point, there will be an enchilada night.”

Ryan chuckles. “Noted.”

After lunch, Michael starts to head for the door but Ryan interrupts him. “Let me,” he says.

“Nah,” Michael replies, sliding his hands into his pockets. “If you’re the one out there, they’ll probably shoot your ass without even stopping to think about it.”

“Still, I feel kind of bad having you two do all of this work for me.”

Michael sighs. “Look, man, I’m not really sure how I feel about this whole situation, but I’m doing this as a favor to Lindsay, so consider me as like… A bodyguard. I’m just out here to do my job. The easiest way for that to happen is if you stay inside and don’t do anything stupid to get your ass killed.”

Ray has a funny feeling that Michael isn’t telling the whole truth. He doesn’t know him that well, though, so he decides it’s best not to push it. Ryan nods after a moment and silently retreats to the living room, Ray trailing after.

He’s still out of things to do in Animal Crossing, so Ray switches over to Scribblenauts. This time, he’s leaning against Ryan and effectively pinning his right arm to his side. It would probably be more comfortable if Ryan put his arm on the back of the couch, or around Ray’s shoulders, or. Something. But Ryan doesn’t complain, so it’s fine. Yeah.

“You should make a killer cow.” Ryan suggests when Ray has to restart a particularly challenging level for the fifth time.

“You suggest that every time, man.”

“Yeah, but killer cows can solve every problem.”

“I’m supposed to be peacefully stopping this kid from bullying the other kid.”

“The cow will be his bodyguard.”

Ray gives up and just spawns the cow, then smirks when it promptly kills the bully child, and the level auto-fails.

“...This game is stupid.”

“Any other ideas?” Ray tilts his head toward Ryan to look at his face and wow, okay, uh, Ryan is looking back at him and their faces are really close together. He quickly looks back at his DS.

“Put him in a cage!” Lindsay suggests from across the table. Ray starts a bit when she talks. He kind of forgot she was there. Which is insane, because this is _her_ house. He was just so focused on Ryan that he…

No, no. It was the game. These puzzles, man. Ha ha ha, they are so difficult sometimes. That’s what was distracting Ray from Lindsay’s presence. Yep. No doubt about it.

He spawns the cage and attempts to trap the child, but it doesn’t let him. “No dice.”

“Oh!” Ray catches Ryan’s ears perking up in his peripheral vision. “Give him a Diet Coke. He’ll be so distracted by drinking it that the kid can escape.”

Ray snorts but does as Ryan says. The game doesn’t allow him to make ‘Diet Coke’ but it does allow ‘Soda,’ so he makes that and places it in the bully’s hands. The bully is pacified and the level is completed.

“Alright, maybe the game is okay.” Ryan acquiesces.

“I wish solving problems in the real world was as simple as this. Just make a can of soda appear, and everyone can be friends.” Ray is mostly talking to himself, but that’s difficult to discern when you’re sitting right next to someone, and Ryan ends up replying.

“It would be nice if things were guaranteed to have solutions.”

“Yeah, but that would be boring.” Lindsay stands and stretches. “When it comes to life, uncertainty is half the fun.”

Her communicator goes off. She checks and breaks out into a grin, which causes Ryan to perk up and start whapping his tail into Ray’s leg for a few seconds before he realizes what he’s doing and quickly apologizes.

“She’ll be here in a few minutes. I’ll go tell Michael.”

Ryan stands and starts pacing around the room.

Ray crosses his arms and watches him make loops around the table while he idly wonders why his heart rate just picked up.

Lindsay reenters the room and Ray doesn’t have to turn around to know that the new arrival is with her, because Ryan’s entire demeanor shifts suddenly into that of an excited puppy and he practically bounds to the entryway. By the time Ray _does_ manage to turn around to look, Ryan has the newcomer wrapped in a hug so tight that Ray can’t even see her- just the dark brown hints of a tail peeking out from his side. After what feels like an eternity, Ryan releases her and steps to the side, and Ray gets his first glimpse of Meg Turney.

She’s beautiful.

That’s the simplest way to put it. Everything about her drips with elegant dignity and yet her face, lit up with a brilliant grin, speaks of playfulness and joy. Her hair is dark red, which makes the golden brown of her ears and tail stand out even more, and in spite of her surprisingly short stature- there’s no way that she’s less than half a foot shorter than Ray when he bothers to stand up straight- she has an air that commands respect and attention. So, basically, she’s _mesmerizing_.

Ray feels a little sick to his stomach.

Lindsay and Ryan are laughing at something she said while Ray was busy taking her in. He forces himself to stand and take mechanical steps toward them until she looks up and smiles at him.

“Hey!” She says. Her voice sounds like bells ringing. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Meg.”

She sticks her hand out to shake. Pure muscle memory has him meeting her and shaking like Jack taught him to- firm, but not crushing.

“I’m Ray.” He replies after a moment’s pause.

“Nice to meet you, Ray.”

She pivots back a bit so that she’s addressing Lindsay and Ryan as well.

“So, I heard that my services are needed.”

“Right.” Lindsay replies. “We’re having wolf troubles.”

Meg smirks and looks at Ryan. “Are you being a troublemaker, Ryan?” She reaches up and boops him on the nose. Ryan smiles and shakes his head. Ray clenches his teeth.

“Unfortunately, it’s not me. It’s Edgar.”

Her smile falters. “Edgar, huh?”

“Yes. He’s been attacking and killing people for the past few months.”

“And everyone in this goddamn forest is assuming that Ryan here is the big bad wolf.” Lindsay adds.

“I see.” Meg taps her chin with one finger. “I guess we’ll just have to take him down, then.”

“That’s the idea.” Lindsay replies with a smile.

Michael joins them in the quickly-crowding entryway. “If they were going to come back over here today, they would have done that while it’s still light. It’s probably fine.”

Ray leans to see outside around Michael- the sky is quickly losing light and Lindsay’s yard is already cast in shadows.

“Can you really be sure about that?” Meg asks.

Michael shrugs. “It’s not really Geoff’s style to go for a night ambush. We’re safest here for tonight.”

“Plus, the cats will let us know if shit starts going down.” Lindsay adds.

“Alright. Let’s plan on starting as soon as the sun rises tomorrow.” Meg puts a hand on her hip and smiles, and she’s fucking dripping with cool confidence. “We’ll catch that fucker.”

“Hell yeah.” Lindsay does a fist pump. Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. And Ryan looks like he’s two steps away from sitting at her feet and lolling his tongue.

“So…” Michael crosses his arms. “How are sleeping arrangements going to work…?”

Meg and Lindsay share a short glance, and then turn back to the group. “Meg and I will share. You boys can figure out how you want to distribute the chairs.”

They disappear down the hallway before any protest can be made.

The couch can take one of them, and each of the chairs recline and can take one person. Ray heads for one of the chairs, figuring that he would end up there anyway, being the youngest and all.

“Take the couch,” Ryan says after a moment of he and Michael staring at it awkwardly.

“It’s fine-”

“I insist. I’m not really going to be able to sleep, anyway.”

“...Okay.”

Ryan takes the other chair and Michael sets up on the couch.

Ray is caught up with uncertainty about how much he should dress down. Normally, he goes for the standard ‘undershirt and boxers’ combo, but he doesn’t have an undershirt with him. He opts to take his hood off and fold it carefully beside him. His shirt is a tanktop, anyway.

After a few minutes curled up in silence, Ray reaches for the rose as subtly as he can and holds it near his face. It’s comforting. It helps soothe the knots in his stomach and release the tension in his muscles.

And when the air around his hand becomes warm, he relaxes and lets the sensation lull him finally to sleep.

 

The flurry of morning activity rouses Ray from his dreamless state. At some point in the night, a quilt was tucked over him. The sounds of cooking filter in from the kitchen and the second the scent of eggs and sausages hit Ray, he’s wide awake. He doesn’t bother to put his hood back on before he drifts up to the kitchen counter and watches Michael work on scrambled eggs while Meg leans against the wall with a cup of what appears to be coffee.

“Good morning!” She says.

“Morning,” Ray replies. “Where’s Ryan?” He wasn’t in the living room.

“He’s in the bathroom.”

“And Lindsay?”

“Still asleep.” Michael says. “Speaking of, can you go make sure she’s not dead? Breakfast is almost ready, and we gotta move pretty soon if we want to make sunrise.”

Meg nods and disappears down the hall.

Ray continues to watch Michael move around the kitchen, occasionally taking sips from a cat themed mug beside the range, presumably also filled with coffee.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” Ray remarks.

Michael shrugs. “It’s a practical skill. And Gav only eats weird British shit when left to his own devices, so if I want something that isn’t beans on toast, I have to make it myself.”

Ray smiles. Then he remembers that Michael is here because he and Gavin are fighting, and the smile goes away. “Uh… I’m sorry, man.”

“For what?”

“That you’re fighting with Gavin.”

“Oh.” Michael looks away and busies himself with the pan of scrambled eggs. “It’s not your fault. But thanks.”

“Yeah.” Ray doesn’t miss the way Michael’s shoulders slump after that. He hits himself mentally for bringing it up. Why can’t he keep his damn mouth shut?

Ryan and Meg emerge from the hallway and take seats at the dining room table.

“The queen will be rising from her chambers in the next three minutes.” Meg says as she scoots her chair in.

Michael grunts his acknowledgement and transfers the eggs and sausages onto plates, then brings them to the table. He takes the third seat, which leaves only one more at the table. Ray grabs a plate for himself, shovels on some food, and jumps up to sit on the counter. It’s kind of uncomfortable to hunch over and he has to hold the plate with one hand and eat with the other, but it’s fine. This is Lindsay’s house. She gets to have a chair.

Speaking of.

She wordlessly marches into the kitchen and pours herself coffee, then sits at the table. Judging by the bags under her eyes and the general unkempt and messy look to her hair, Ray guesses she didn’t get very much sleep last night.

“Wow. You sure look chipper.” Michael remarks.

Lindsay considers this for a moment, then flips him off and takes a sip of her drink.

“So, Meg,” Ryan starts. “What were you doing before you got the call?”

She takes a moment to finish chewing and wipe her mouth with her napkin before she speaks. “I was in Blood Gulch City, trying to track down someone who _really_ wanted to convince the world that he was dead. He owed my client quite a large sum of money. Turns out, the fucker joined up with the local chapter of the Church of Notch and then transferred over to _Slomoville_ with a brand new identity and no worldly possessions.”

“I fucking hate Slomoville.” Lindsay grumbles into her cup. “Everyone there wants to convert you.”

“Yep. And picking out the right bald, middle-aged white guy of average height and build from that crowd was a serious pain. I hate doing it, but I had to track him by scent.”

“The Doggy Detective strikes again,” Ryan chimes with a smirk.

Meg punches him lightly in the shoulder. “Shut up! That’s exactly why I hate it!”

Her hand lingers on his arm longer than it needs to be there.

...The food on Ray’s plate is no longer appetizing.

Yeah, there’s no getting around this one. He’s jealous as hell.

“So, did you find him?” Michael asks.

It’s ridiculous, though! He has no ownership over Ryan, and no reason to feel threatened by Meg. So this little tantrum his feelings are throwing needs to stop, like, yesterday.

“Yeah. He tried to do some Jedi mind trick shit, but that honestly made it easier to take him down, so I’m not complaining.”

It’s unwarranted and it’s not fair to Meg. She seems like a perfectly nice and lovely person, and yet Ray finds himself getting irritated at her just for being around Ryan.

“I hope we didn’t interrupt your job,” Ryan says.

Why does he feel like this? Sure, Ryan is the first person he’s felt connected to like this in years, but he was never this way about Kerry back when he lived next door.

“Oh, sweetie, of course not. You know I’m always here for you.”

Even when Miles moved in and Kerry always invited him along to everything, it didn’t really bother Ray. And when they got too busy with each other to invite Ray along, he hadn’t felt much of anything at all beyond the baseline sadness.

“Still…”

So what in the _hell_ is different this time? Is it just because Ray is older, now?

“Don’t worry. I dropped the debtor off with one of my client’s people, and I’ll collect my payment when this is all over. He’s too afraid of me to try and skip out.”

She’s touching his arm again.

“Besides, your safety is always my top priority.

Ray banishes himself to the living room until he can control his emotions like a big boy.

He catches confusion and concern in his peripherals, but he ignores both in favor of isolating himself on the couch.

Putting his hood on and affixing the rose helps a little bit. Tucking his nose into his DS and restarting Pokemon Yellow helps even more.

The others get ready to go looking for Edgar and eventually head for the door. Ray grunts to acknowledge their farewells. But even after the other three are outside, Ryan lingers for a moment. He gently touches Ray’s shoulder and smiles at him.

“Happy birthday, Ray.”

Ray can’t help but smile back. “Thanks.”

Ryan opens his mouth, hesitates a moment, then closes it again and nods to Ray. He leaves.

Ray is alone in the house.

He names his team after U.S. Capital cities and proceeds to throttle the first three gyms before his growling stomach reminds him about lunch. The supplies from sandwiches the day before are in the same spot, so Ray fixes a quick ham and cheese and scarfs it down, pausing only to chug a glass of water, then hits the bathroom and curls up on the couch. He’s not moving again until he has all eight badges.

He finishes annihilating Sabrina with Salem, his Onix, and the cats wander in.

He pays half attention to them for five or so minutes, but they seem to just be hanging out, so he returns his full focus to the game. Gotta grind for Cinnabar Island. Ruby jumps up and passes out in his lap. It doesn’t interrupt his play, so he allows it.

Should he catch a MissingNo.? Will that even work with an emulator? Ray decides it’s worth a shot and gets to work setting up when Ruby suddenly sits upright and stares out the window. Ray watches her and slowly closes his DS. Her tail is puffed up, her hackles are raised, and she gives a long, quiet hiss and then leaps off of Ray’s lap (using his crotch as a launch pad, _ow_ ) and races out of the room, Hilda close behind.

Well.

That’s ominous.

Anxiety sinks into his consciousness and is soon joined by a sense of impending dread that he is unable to dismiss. He touches the rose and reaches out for Ryan. He’s out to the north, somewhere- a decent walk, but nothing he can’t handle. Without taking a moment to think it through beyond the very basic level of planning, Ray pulls his shoes on and heads outside.

It’s nearing the evening, now. They’ve been out for hours. The path takes him on a mostly direct route toward Ryan, with only a few short detours around particularly nasty patches of brambles or poison ivy.

The trepidation does not leave him even as he feels himself getting progressively closer to Ryan. If anything, it grows stronger. Ray finally reaches a point where he’ll have to leave the path to get to Ryan.

In spite of everything that’s happened, he still hesitates over taking that first step. Ray reminds himself that the path isn’t even keeping him safe anyway, and that he will always know where Ryan is, so he can never truly be lost. He has the rose. The very same rose that he left the path for just a couple of weeks ago.

It’s a funny parallel that he tries to stay focused on instead of the alarms in his brain going crazy while he picks his way through overly-friendly ferns. The foliage isn’t too dense, here, and he isn’t slowed down much by stepping over roots and weaving through blocks of bramble and snagging twiggy bushes. Ryan finally comes into close enough range that the rose tells him exactly where he is, and Ray feels Ryan sharply turn direction and head toward him, so he stops and waits.

Ryan arrives a few moments later, looking concerned. “Ray?”

“Hey.”

He looks a bit dirty, but otherwise completely fine. “Is something wrong?”

Ray purses his lips and looks at the ground. “I… I’m not sure? I felt like something really bad was going to happen, and the cats were freaking out, so I came out here to make sure it was okay.”

Ryan relaxes slightly and walks closer until there’s only a couple of feet between them. He places a hand on Ray’s shoulder and gives him a tired smile.

“Thank you for looking out for me. I’m okay.”

But the dread is growing ever more intense. It gets to a point where Ray finds he is too anxious to even reply to Ryan- all he can do is fling himself forward and wrap his arms around Ryan’s torso. Ryan hugs him back and Ray tucks his head against his chest and listens to his heart beating, trying to soothe himself with its regular rhythm. Nothing is wrong. Ryan is fine. Everything is okay.

So why is he...

Ray opens his eyes slightly. A gasp rips out of him when he sees the slightest of movements from a tree a few yards down and he catches a glimpse of tanned skin. He shoves Ryan backward and they both fall down, and on the way to the ground, something going very fast whizzes by Ray’s head.

Gavin is on the ground and notching another arrow by the time he manages to breathe in again.

Ryan twitches against his side, and then disappears completely. Gavin, in the same moment, erupts into a flurry of feathers and takes off in the direction that Ray can sense Ryan has fled. He’s locked in place for several seconds, just feeling the rose quickly fall out of range until he no longer has more than a general idea of which direction it might lie.

He is alone in the woods.

...What the fuck just happened?

He climbs to his feet and wobbles uncertainly toward a tree that was behind them. Gavin’s arrow is lodged in the bark. Ray carefully works it out and examines it for a moment.

It’s silver and appears to be meticulously made. He doesn’t really know enough about archery to determine much else, but he’s feeling a strange urge to hold onto it, so he tuck it under his belt and just _breathes_ for a few minutes. His heart rate goes down, but he seems to be stagnant as far as anxiety levels.

The rush of adrenaline eventually rouses him enough to return to the path and start walking aimlessly.

Packed earth beneath his feet. Shuffling leaves above his head. Foliage and fauna and the sounds of nature, of _life_ all around him. Usually, this surrounding would instantly lull Ray into a state of tranquil bliss. Today, however…

He makes it to a section of the path where the flora is densely packed and weaves in and around itself like an intricate basket. Very little of the evening light makes it through to the ground. Leaves and pollen drift through the air and catch the few sunbeams that penetrate the canopy. It’s beautiful.

It’s suffocating.

Ray wants out. He wants to curl up on the couch and play Pokemon. He wants to laugh and make jokes and eat snacks. He wants to feel the warmth in Jack’s smile and glow under the feeling of having his hair tussled. He wants to be near Ryan again, where he can see him and just… Be comfortable, the way that Ryan always makes him feel, and know that Ryan is safe beside him and the threat is gone.

But the universe is rarely so kind.

He keeps walking.

It starts to feel like he’s asleep, and just drifting along the path like the leaves drift along the breeze. Maybe it’s the anxiety. Maybe it’s the adrenaline crash. Who knows.

Ray peers up to check what’s in front of him and huffs out a short laugh when he notices Ryan doing his cool kid lean on a tree down a few yards. He’s relieved that Ryan shook Gavin off again, and he’s safe.

…

…

...The rose is far, far behind him.

The man kicks off of the tree and steps into the light and all of the air in Ray’s lungs vacates.

He’s frozen. Completely unable to move or breathe or think or do anything except watch the man step unperturbedly onto the path.

He’s tall and gaunt and his clothes are stained with blood.

“Ray.” He says, and his voice is the middle ground between whispering and rasping.

A bead of sweat rolls down the side of Ray’s face.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you for a _long_ time.”

His eyes are burning. He cannot blink.

The man continues his approach and Ray can see the film of grime covering his body, and the matted clumps of muddy brown on his tail. His hair appears to be slicked back with its own oil buildup.

“My, my. You’re even prettier up close.”

His lungs are screaming for air.

“No need to asphyxiate. That would be no fun at all.”

And just like that, Ray is released from his statuesque hold. He sucks in air and struggles to remain standing with how hard his legs- his _entire body_ \- is shaking.

Fight or flight.

_Fight or flight._

He meets the man’s eyes and he is frozen again. This hold is more lax- he can still breathe and he continues to shake- but he is fixedly aware that he wouldn’t be able to walk away, if he tried. His legs simply wouldn’t obey him.

The man’s eyes are flat and empty. His ears are missing sizable chunks in some places. The hollows of his cheeks are heavily pronounced by shadows and he looks so completely and totally relaxed that Ray might laugh under different circumstances.

Like Meg did just the night before, he reaches out an open hand.

Ray meets him.

“My name,” the man breathes as his hand slides up from Ray’s palm to form a loose hold around his wrist. “Is Edgar.”

And then there’s a sickening _crunch_ and Edgar withdraws his hand from Ray’s broken wrist.

A strangled cry is all that he manages to force out. The pain is indescribably overwhelming. It’s enough to rip his eyes away from Edgar’s stare to look at the jutting angle his right hand is now resting at.

“I bet you look beautiful when you cry.”

Ray barely processes the words before a fist smashes into the right side of his face, knocking him down to the ground. The impact jars his wrist and he cries out again, slightly louder this time. He tries to look back up but his vision is severely blurred. His glasses must have been knocked off.

“Cry for me, Ray.”

A foot connects harshly with his ribs. He can’t even yell- just wheezes and curls inward on himself slightly. He knows what Edgar wants. But the tears will not come. He wills them desperately and they still will not come.

“You’re a brave one, aren’t you?”

His mind is preoccupied with trying to comprehend the amount of pain he’s in so he doesn’t notice Edgar leaning down until his shoulders are forcefully slammed flat against the ground and a pair of hands wrap around his throat.

He can’t breathe.

Edgar is leaning in close enough that Ray can see him clearly. Dead eyes stare back.

Spots swarm his vision and Ray’s eyes start to roll back but a wetness pricks in their corners and the hands release him. It’s still difficult to breathe. Edgar may have crushed something.

“There.” The voice is like a strangled purr. A filthy hand gingerly brushes Ray’s cheek and he can see the blood caked under Edgar’s fingernails. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

With airflow at least partially returned, his brain turns back to his wrist. His right arm is pinned under something- a leg. Edgar is straddling him and holding his arms down with his knees.

“You are a very, very pretty boy. I can see why Ryan likes you so much.”

Ryan. Ryan!

Ray draws in as much breath as he dares, tips his head back so his mouth opens, and-

“RY-” A hand blocks his windpipe. The knee on his right arm slides lower and presses hard into his wrist and a whimper forces its way out of Ray.

“Three’s a crowd.” The hand resting on his neck slides down his chest and stops over his heart. Ray realizes too late what Edgar is doing- and he watches helplessly as he removes the rose from his hood and methodically tears it apart.

When it has been reduced to nothing but petals, Edgar tosses them around so they blanket the ground around them.

“It’s important to set the mood, don’t you think?”

He leans in to whisper this in Ray’s ear and Ray’s breath hitches.

“I wonder…” Edgar says, and his lilting tone is almost sing-songy. “Are you as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside?”

He produces something shining- it’s the arrow.

Oh, god.

Ray squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall back to the ground.

He’s going to die.

And the way things are going right now, it’s probably going to hurt a _lot._

Edgar might be talking again, but Ray can no longer hear him; his heartbeat is pounding in his ears and his awareness is limited to the blinding pain sending shockwaves up his arm, and nothing else can break into his limited sphere of attention.

Something cold touches his cheek. His eyes open on instinct. Edgar is holding the arrow tip mere centimeters below his eye socket. If his mind were capable of creating more panic, he’s sure it would be doing so.

The tip presses harder. Not hard enough to break skin, but close to it. His breathing is further cut down by sobs that wrack his chest and his ribs hurt so bad, holy fucking shit, how can anything hurt this bad.

Edgar says something. It might have been _ready_ , or _okay,_ or _let’s start_.

And then his face disappears from Ray’s view.

In the steadily darkening evening, he’s having a very hard time discerning what’s in front of him, but he doesn’t need all that much information to figure out what’s going on.

Another pair of ears. Another tail. Holding Edgar’s arms back with his own and wresting him backwards.

“ _RAY, RUN!”_ Ryan’s voice sounds muffled like there’s a pane of glass between them, but he can still work out what he said, and apply meaning to the words.

Run.

He manages to get one foot under himself, and then his leg gives out and he slides back a couple of feet. He tries again and manages to get into a kneeling position. Every second that passes returns clarity to Ray’s mind, like a fog being sliced through by sun beams. The pain dulls. His breath quickens. This is adrenaline, finally pulling him from the cyclone of terror.

Ryan slams Edgar face-first into a tree. Edgar grabs his arm and spins their positions. He hits Ryan in the face and Ray catches the glint of blood on his cheek. Ryan _snarls_ , ducks under  Edgar’s next swinging fist, and knees him in the stomach. Edgar goes down, but he strikes out with a kick to Ryan’s knee on his way down that sends him quickly tumbling after and he cries out.

And Ray finally notices it.

Lodged in Ryan’s abdomen is a silver arrow.

It seems that he’s snapped it off partway down the shaft, but the arrow remains embedded in his skin and a dark bloom of blood is seeping through his jacket.

Ryan isn’t getting back up. Edgar is already recovering.

_Edgar is going to kill him and Ray is powerless to stop him-_

“Hey!” It’s about half as loud as he expects and his throat feels completely raw and scratchy, but it’s enough for Edgar to whip his head around to look. Ray wonders what he looks like, right now; kneeling, face streaked with tears, nose gushing blood. His neck is probably bruised to all hell, too, and if even a fraction of the onset of all consuming _fury_ reaches his eyes, then Ray is certain that he would run, too.

Edgar looks around, then turns on his heel and disappears into the trees.

With the threat passed, Ray drops his head and takes shallow breaths until his mind is cleared enough to remember that Ryan is wounded. He starts to stand- ow, ow, fuck, that hurts. Every part of him is complaining. His wrist and his ribs are extra loud. He drops back into the kneel and sucks in more air.

“Ryan,” he calls weakly.

Ryan twitches and starts to turn toward him, but aborts the motion almost immediately in favor of curling around the arrow.

Okay. Fuck, okay, he isn’t going to be able to get back up on his own. Ray steels himself for the pain and starts to stand again. He’s about halfway to his feet when there’s a shuddering of the leaves and Ray looks up to see Gavin once more, looking out of breath and very pissed off.

He makes eye contact with Ray, then looks at Ryan, then back to Ray, and he clenches his teeth.

“End of the sodding line, you _bastard._ ” Gavin reaches for an arrow.

“ _No!_ ” Ray cries, and he launches forward and throws himself between Gavin and Ryan.

“Ray, he _hurt_ you-” Gavin’s starts, but Ray cuts him off.

“ _Leave him alone._ ”

“Ray, get out of the way.”

“ _LEAVE HIM ALONE!_ ”

Ray staggers to his feet and stares at Gavin with his teeth bared. Gavin’s eyes widen and he takes a half step backward.

They maintain eye contact for several seconds.

Then Gavin morphs into a starling and flies away.

“Ray…?” Ryan grunts after a few moments have passed.

“Yeah. Fuck, this is… Crazy. Are you okay?” It’s a dumb question, considering that Ryan literally has an arrow sticking out of him.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Just… Can you help me up?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Ray starts to reach out with his right hand. This is a mistake. Ryan looks up sharply when Ray yelps in pain.

“Shit- Sorry, I… Think my wrist is broken.”

He helps Ryan up with his left hand, instead. He starts to release him, but Ryan stumbles and nearly falls back down, so Ray slides his arm under his shoulder and nudges his arm so he’s supporting part of Ryan’s weight.

“I can walk-”

“No, you can’t. It’s fine.”

They start walking.

It’s slow-going, and after a few minutes of trudging along, the adrenaline starts to wear off and Ray becomes more and more aware of his injuries.

They make it around half a mile down the path, and then they have to stop so Ray can catch his breath. He’s careful not to sit down; if he does, Ray isn’t sure that he’ll be able to get back up again.

He hears Ryan curse under his breath. It’s the first time he’s spoken since they set out.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s weird. I feel really weak.” He holds his left hand out in front of him and studies it. “This kind of wound wouldn’t normally cause me so much trouble.”

“...There is an arrow sticking out of your stomach.”

“Sure is.”

“And that wouldn’t normally bother you?”

Ryan coughs out a short laugh. “Wolf stuff. My blood congeals faster, and my body heals itself at… Triple the rate of a normal human.”

Okay. His concern for Ryan’s safety has now tripled. Ray tightens his grip around Ryan’s side and starts walking again.

There’s the familiar bend, up ahead. And the fence. Lindsay’s house.

They made it.

A few minutes after they collapse in the living room with the first aid kit from the bathroom, Michael arrives. He explains that when Gavin shot Ryan, he fell on his borrowed communicator and crushed it- which sent out a distress signal. Lindsay, Meg, and Michael looked around the area and eventually decided to send Michael back to Lindsay’s house in case that’s where they went.

He takes in the situation and immediately walks over to where Ryan is trying to figure out how to remove the arrow and bats his hands away.

Turns out, being a woodsman often means patching yourself up on the fly. Michael is very knowledgeable in first aid practices. Since the arrow is keeping most of the blood in, he leaves Ryan be for the moment and sets Ray’s hand with a splint- which hurts like fucking hell- and insists on checking his ribs and shining a flashlight in his mouth to make sure his airways are clear. Once that’s done, he gives Ray a couple of pills to swallow, then sets to work on removing the arrow.

Ray is no stranger to simulated violence. He’s sliced and stabbed his way through thousands of enemies in his various games, but the real thing… Is much harder to watch. But he’s not willing to leave Ryan’s side, so he settles for turning his body away and holding Ryan’s right hand with his left so he has something to squeeze when Michael starts threading the torn skin back together.

The pain starts to fade and lying in wait beneath it is a bone-deep exhaustion. He can’t even begin to process the day’s events- it’s just too much, and right now, all he really wants to do is curl up into a ball and pass out for thirty years. Barring that, a solid eight hours is definitely called for.

He hears Ryan talking to him, but he can’t make out the words.

“‘m sleepy,” Ray mumbles.

Then Ryan shifts so Ray is tucked against his side and a warm hand starts threading gently through his hair, and he’s out in less than a minute.

 

He awakes to find his body aching and his right forearm and hand set in a hard cast. It doesn’t hurt- just kind of throbs- but he can’t move his thumb. Of course it had to be his dominant hand. _Of course._

The next thing he notices is Ryan’s absence. He’s in a different place from where he fell asleep- it seems that at some point in the night, he was moved to one of the armchairs and the same quilt from the night prior was once more tucked around his unconscious form. Sitting up causes an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. Right, the ribs. Michael said that none of them were broken, but a scarlet splotching was already present on his skin. Welcome to Bruise Town- Population, Ray.

Ryan is taking up the entire length of the couch. He’s lying on his back and seems to be asleep. There’s a thin blanket covering his legs, but his shirtless torso is exposed, revealing a large bandage securing gauze over the site of his arrow wound.

Lindsay sits across from Ray on her usual chair. She’s leafing through yet another book, muttering something too quietly for Ray to hear. He can’t see Michael or Meg in the main area.

Ray lifts his right hand experimentally and holds it in front of himself, studying the structure of the cast and wondering why it doesn’t hurt. Last night, it-

Last night…

It…

...Fuck.

No. It’s too soon. It’s too fresh.

What matters is that Michael showed up, and first aid was administered. Ray fell asleep with Ryan’s hand in his hair.

He’s craving that touch, now.

But he’s a little afraid of standing up, so he settles for clearing his throat to get Lindsay’s attention.

“Oh, shit. You’re up.”

Ray snorts. “Good morning to you, too.” His voice comes out weak and scratchy, and every word feels like it’s being scraped and dragged out of him.

She stands and sets the book gingerly on the table, then weaves her way over to Ray. He makes himself hold still while she feels his forehead, checks his throat again, and examines his face.

“Okay, I’m gonna need to take a look at those ribs.”

Ray pushes the blanket back and goes to lift his shirt, but it’s a difficult task when he only has one fully functional hand and his chest protests vehemently against maneuvering his body to make the task easier. He takes a short break from struggling and finds himself out of breath. Okay, what the _fuck_. Taking his damn shirt off is making him sweat, when yesterday he could walk 12 miles in a day with nary a complaint from his legs. That’s dumb as dicks, to steal a phrase from Geoff’s vernacular.

Lindsay is watching him and rubbing her hands together awkwardly. “Uh,” she starts when he pauses to breathe. “Can I help…?”

Well, this is thoroughly humiliating. Ray glances around her to make sure Ryan is still asleep and then nods.

The skin over his right side is in sorry shape. The bruises were blood-like in hue last night, but now they are deep purple and blue. Lindsay hisses sympathetically and gently inspects them with her hand, then pulls his shirt back down and stands up straight again.

“Lots of iBuprofen for you.” She says, shaking her head.

“We have that?” Ray asks.

“Well, yeah. What else would we use?”

Ray shrugs. “Magic?”

“Oh, believe me,” She replies, picking the book back up and flipping it open. “There’s plenty of that, too.”

That’s probably why his hand isn’t causing him agony. Neat.

Jack doesn’t deal in medical magic- he’s a general mage, or a _Jack of all trades,_ as he would delightedly put it, so most of his medical knowledge involved ice packs, band-aids, and an unending well of chocolate chip cookies. Mostly, Jack’s focus involves collecting ingredients and components that are difficult or inconvenient to obtain, and using those to brew potions and shit to be sold to various travelling merchants. The locals also buy from his stock for their own uses, with the agreement that they won’t steal his business with the traders. But most of his potions are more on the _I want to be invisible for an hour_ or _I want to breathe underwater_ end of things, and not the _fix my shattered bones_ area.

Lindsay describes herself as a witch, but Jack says she’s closer to a wizard in technical definitions. She can heal with exceptional speed and efficiency, and her feline familiars tip her off about impending dangers. She’s also well versed in magical combat of some variety, but Ray isn’t certain which school she belongs to, and Jack taught him that it’s disrespectful to ask.

“...How long am I gonna have to wear this thing?” He lifts his right hand up.

“Oh, um…” Lindsay tilts her head and looks up. “Six weeks, I think.”

“ _Six weeks,_ ” He repeats incredulously. “Man, what the fuck am I supposed to do for six goddamn weeks without my hand?”

“Well, what do you normally do?”

“Play video games.” Ray responds instantly.

“I guess you’re just going to have to subject yourself to terrible daytime television with the rest of us!” She says with a grin.

“Man…” He shakes his head as he tries to mime using a controller or his DS, and finds that his thumb will not move. “Isn’t there any way to speed up the healing process?”

“No, unfortunately. You’re a non-magic human, so the best that magic healing can do is take care of the surface stuff. Seal up cuts, repair damaged skin, and things like that. Can’t do shit about broken or bruised bones, or deep bruises or pretty much anything beyond the first few dermal layers.”

“Great.” He lets his head fall back against the chair. While it’s annoying that he’ll be impacted by this thing in his daily life, Ray’s more honest concern lies in having a constant reminder of what happened hanging on him for the next month and a half. He was edging more towards the ‘just don’t think about it’ route of coping. This is putting a serious wrench in his plans.

He knows that he’s being an ungrateful brat, but… It’s too hard to be thankful when there’s still a threat looming over their shoulders, waiting for an opportunity.

Lindsay heads over to Ryan on the couch and gently prods his shoulder.

“Come on, sleepy head. Gotta get those bandages changed.”

Ryan doesn’t stir.

“Geez, he’s out hard.” Lindsay scratches the back of her head. “For someone who claims not to sleep much, twelve straight hours is an awful long time to nap.”

...Twelve hours?

Ray recalls what Ryan said, when they were walking home- he felt unusually weak.

Something is wrong.

Ray shoves the footrest down and stumbles uncertainly to his feet. Lindsay watches him trudge over to Ryan with furrowed brows and slightly pursed lips.

He reaches the couch and is no longer certain what to do. Instinct lead him here, but how is he meant to tell if Ryan is okay or not? What could he possibly do that Lindsay, a fucking _magic healer_ , couldn’t?

The two jagged scratches running down the right side of Ryan’s cheek and onto his jaw seem to have already healed considerably. They’re little more than scar tissue remaining of the actual wound, but the lines cut through his beard are pretty noticeable up close.

Ray reaches out and hesitantly brushes the hair near Ryan’s forehead. His skin is… Warm. Ryan is already a pretty warm guy, but this… He feels Ryan’s forehead proper and sucks in a surprised gasp (which hurts. thanks, fucking useless ribs). It’s clammy and burning hot- way hotter than it should be.

“Lindsay,” Ray warns, withdrawing his hand.

She follows his motion and feels Ryan’s forehead. “That’s… Not right.”

“He has a fever.” It comes out as a statement, rather than the question Ray was going for.

“Ryan.” Lindsay says, now shaking his shoulder with more vigor than before. “Ryan, wake up. Open your eyes.”

No response.

Ray’s heart drops into his fucking stomach while Lindsay stands and turns toward the hall. “ _Michael!_ ”

He rushes in a few moments later, holding his axe, half dressed, and looking like he’s fresh out of dreamland. “What? What’s going on?”

“It’s Ryan. He’s running a fever and he won’t wake up.”

Michael pales. “Oh, shit.”

Right. Ray’s heart is now descending to the floor.

Michael ushers them back and runs a cursory inspection of Ryan, then turns to Lindsay with a look caught somewhere between fear and anger. “It’s… Well, uh…” He glances at Ray.

“Go ahead.” She says.

“I tried to check, but I didn’t think that- It didn’t look like…”

“Michael.”

“The arrow Gavin shot him with was poisoned.”

Goodbye, Ray’s heart. It has now passed through the floorboards and is making a home for itself miles beneath the surface of the Earth.

“Is there an antidote?”

“Yes, but it’s back at home. I’ll have to go get it. Hopefully Gav didn’t…” He pauses. “Never mind. I’ll go get it.”

Michael disappears back down the hall, presumably to get the rest of the way dressed and retrieve his belt of dangerous objects.

“Hey,” Lindsay says softly. Her hand lends gently on his shoulder and Ray realizes that she’s talking to him. “It’ll be okay.”

His face must have betrayed the monsoon of anxiety that’s currently turning his stomach into pâté. He tries to school his looks back into something resembling neutrality, but he just can’t.

Ray opens his mouth to speak, but no words come, so he just nods.

Michael emerges once more. “Sit him up and keep an eye on him until he wakes up. If it’s the one I’m thinking of- and it would have to be for me to have missed it when I checked before- then we still have a good while before he’s in real danger. For now, it’s going to look like he’s just regular sick: fever, coughing, tight chest, weakness, the works. It’s pretty likely that he’ll be in pain, too, so treat that as you normally would. I _will_ be back before this happens, but if for some reason I’m not, if he starts vomiting or has a seizure, put him in the recovery position and have him take activated charcoal. It won’t stop the poison, but it’ll slow it down and buy us more time. Oh, and _do not_ give him anything to lower the fever. It doesn’t play well with the toxin.”

Lindsay nods and starts carefully pulling Ryan upright.

“What should I do if he doesn’t wake up?” She asks.

Michael closes his eyes and a grim darkness passes over his expression. “He will.”

Then he heads for the door.

“Wait,” Ray croaks.

Michael turns his head back and looks at Ray expectantly.

“You shouldn’t-” His breath catches, and he has to exhale and try again. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

Michael shakes his head and pats the gun on his belt. “I’ll be fine.”

Ray wants to protest- Michael, though he’s only known him for a few weeks, is a cool dude. He’s kind and trustworthy and always ready to snipe back when he’s hit with a joking insult. But the words of warning do not come to him. All Ray can see are flat, dead eyes burned into the backs of his eyelids every time he blinks.

Michael takes his silence for acceptance and leaves without another word.

With Ryan now upright, Lindsay disappears to get a wet washcloth for his neck and Ray sits down next to him, studying the way his head lolls backward and his jaw is slack with wide, worried eyes.

His instinct is to make a joke. To smother the stress of his last 24 hours in denial-based humor and laugh it off like it doesn’t matter, like he isn’t standing on the precipice of a breakdown and staring at the jagged pit of consequence far, far below. But the only other person in earshot is unconscious- _dying, maybe-_ and only stupid assholes laugh alone at their own jokes.

His second impulse is to reach for the rose and hold it awhile. His hood is hung over the edge of the chair, but where there would normally be a splash of crimson, there is only the same worn sangria fabric that he has worn for years. He panics for half a second, then remembers what happened to it- and then the panic is replaced with a crushing tightness in his lungs and he can’t breathe, suddenly, because there are ghosts of fingers on his chest, wrapping around his neck-

Lindsay enters with the rag. She pauses, then lifts Ryan’s head and tucks it against the back of his neck. “This should help to cool him down,” She says as she shuffles back to her seat. Ray isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or herself.

He eventually gives in to his urges and curls up into a ball with his head tucked on his knees and his arms wrapped around his shins. It’s gonna take a _lot_ of cookies and juice to get him out of this one.

Lindsay starts tapping out a pattern with her fingers. It graduates into fidgeting her leg. Then it escalates into an aggravated sigh and Lindsay stands. “I’m going to go switch with Meg,” She says, then paces out the door.

O...kay? She just went from 0 to 100 in, like, fifteen seconds. For a car, that isn’t very impressive, but for a human, it’s quite the feat.

True to Lindsay’s word, Meg enters and immediately beelines for Ryan, then hovers for a few moments to feel his forehead and rub circles into his shoulders.

The couch can technically seat three people, but Ryan is on one of the ends while Ray sits beside him in the middle, so Meg can’t sit next to him. Instead, she takes Lindsay’s chair and stares out the window while her tail does small, agitated flicks every few seconds.

Her concern is evident, but she has chosen to leave space between her and Ryan. Ray may not be the most socially competent, but he has always been observant, and he can recognize an olive branch when he sees one.

“...So.” He says.

Meg’s eyebrows shoot up as she looks over at him. Guess she wasn’t expecting him to talk.

“Uh. I’m… Not very good at this, so sorry in advance if I fu- mess it up. But, um, I’m… Sorry. I haven’t been fair to you.”

She gives him a measuring look. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been acting like a douche to you.”

Meg tilts her head. The barest hint of a smile plays on her lips. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Okay, it, ha,” Ray clears his throat, then grimaces when that causes his throat to flare with pain. Right. Don’t do that. “It may have been mostly in my head. I’m still sorry, though.”

Meg breaks out into a proper smile. “It’s okay. I understand why you feel the way you do.”

“Really?” Ray finds himself leaning forward. “Because I fucking don’t.”

One eyebrow raises this time. “...Are you serious?”

Ray nods. Meg inhales deeply and folds her legs up so she’s sitting criss cross, turned sideways in the chair to face him fully. “Ray, you have feelings for Ryan.”

What.

That can’t be right.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious, dude.”

Ah, it seems he was saying those thoughts aloud. Huh. “What?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you like him, dude. Every time I so much as brushed up against him you started bristling.”

“Oh, jesus.” Ray breathes, because she’s right.

“Plus, it’s my job to notice things about people. Body language is hard enough to control even when you’re fully aware of it; not even realizing you have the feelings in the first place is pretty much a guarantee that you’re going to express things subconsciously.”

Ray rests his forehead against his palm. “I don’t…”

His gut reaction is to deny it; it’s so firmly rooted in the land of absurdity that he doesn’t see the point in devoting even a second to it. But now that someone who obviously knows what she’s talking about is telling him _to his face_ that this is what’s going on… It’s a lot harder to dismiss.

Ray supposes that Ryan is kind of handsome. Plus, he’s fun to talk to, and he actually pays attention to what Ray says and asks him about things instead of just nodding along. Ray loves hearing him talk, and his heart beats a little faster when he’s around, and he instantly becomes upset every time there’s even the possibility that something would separate them. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself between Ryan and an arrow.

Alright, alright. He gets the point.

“...Oh no.” Ray murmurs.

He has a giant fucking crush on Ryan.

“My condolences.” Meg adjusts her glasses and watches Ray vigorously rub his eyes like he can somehow erase the revelation by inducing a strong enough afterimage.

“I’m such a fucking _idiot._ ”

“You’re young.” Meg’s expression softens. “I did the exact same thing, when I was young.”

Perfectly composed and elegant Meg failed to realize she had feelings for someone? Yeah right. The disbelief must show, because she continues.

“Really, I did. I had strong feelings for my best friend and I didn’t even notice it until someone pointed it out to me. It was so obvious in retrospect- I felt like the biggest dumbass in the universe for not realizing it sooner… But I never would have thought about it that way on my own. It just wouldn’t have happened.”

Ray gets the sense that he’s being trusted with something, here. The recounting of her experience is sparing in details because this is something that she doesn’t really talk about. He feels kind of… Honored?

But it’s not enough to offset the waves of awkwardness now attempting to drown Ray in his own shame.

“So, uh… You’re a detective?” He says when the silence becomes too much.

Meg nods. “I’m a private investigator. And a damn good one at that.”

“Just because you’re experienced?”

“Nope. Well, yes, but-” Meg taps her nose with her index finger. “-I have the best nose in the business. Even among wolves, I’m kind of a freak for how well I’m able to track.”

“...So that’s why they wanted you here to help with Edgar?”

“Yep.” She pauses before continuing. “It’s been… Frustrating. For someone who stirs up as much trouble as he does, that fucker sure is good at covering his tracks. I know that Ryan managed to wound him- I could smell the blood- but the scent trail just cut off without warning.”

“Like it was covered up?”

“No, it was different from that. When a scent is covered by something else, it sort of blends into the new one and disperses into the air naturally, which makes it much harder to track. But this scent didn’t just disperse- it _stopped_ . Like, there was just an _end._ ”

“That’s… Bizarre.”

“You’re telling me, man.” She sighs and relaxes back into the chair a bit.

It’s quiet for a few more minutes, and then Meg starts up a conversation about the newest Assassin’s Creed game, which was, of course, predictably terrible. Ray quickly finds that he enjoys talking with her like this; Meg is quick witted and very expressive, but she manages to keep things at a level where it isn’t obnoxiously extra. It’s easy to see why she seems to get along with just about everyone.

Ray wonders how she met Ryan. Why was she in his pack’s territory? What caused her to trust him enough to give him her real name? Lindsay too, for that matter. Though, there are clearly some different elements at play in their case. He’s trying to work up the nerve to ask when Ryan stirs beside him.

“Shit, I think he’s… Rye?” Ray watches Ryan’s head roll to one side and his lips part slightly.

“...Ngh?” Is the noise he eventually makes.

“Ryan,” Ray repeats his name, this time laying his hand on Ryan’s shoulder, and trying not to wince at how persistently warm his skin is.

His eyes crack open. Ray bites his lip when he notices how dim his sclera seem.

“...Ray?”

“Yeah,” Ray breathes. “Yeah. It’s me.”

Ryan leans forward a bit and opens his eyes more. He takes several moments to gaze around the room, apparently taking in the situation before he speaks. Ray watches the slopes of his shoulders move along with his breathing and tries not to let his concern over its shallowness show.

“Meg.” His gaze settles on her. She has been intently watching him survey the room, but her expression softens instantly when he speaks.

“Hey,” She says.

Apparently satisfied with that, Ryan turns his head back to look at Ray and just looks at him awhile with a blank expression. It’s hard not to squirm under that kind of attention.

Ryan moves his arm with sluggishness to reach across Ray’s front and rest on top of his cast, currently cradled in his lap. “It was… Really broken, then?”

Ray nods. Ryan’s expression darkens.

He brings his hand back and seems to notice the bandage around his middle as his fingers brush against it. With a slight grunt, he scoots forward a bit to gain a better view and inspects the gauze.

“...Ah.” He says. “That’s right. I got shot.”

Ray kind of wants to grab his shoulders and shake him for paying more attention to Ray’s measly broken wrist when he has a fucking arrow wound loaded with poison in his damn stomach. At the same time, he feels something strange pang in his chest. It feels… Good. To be cared about, like that.

“Why isn’t it…” Ryan looks back to Meg. “Why isn’t it healed?”

Her expression remains steady as she replies. “Michael thinks the arrow was poisoned.”

“Oh.” He leans back into the couch and looks into the middle distance. “That sucks.”

“But he’s on his way to get the antidote. Just hang tight; he’ll be back soon.”

Ryan swallows thickly and nods. Ray hits himself mentally for tracking the motion so intently.

Meg looks between them for a moment then promptly excuses herself to make some soup in the kitchen.

Ray can’t seem to keep himself from watching Ryan’s eyes. The usual burning amber has been replaced with something flat and pale; the color reminds Ray of beige, but with a few shades of yellow mixed in.

It’s definitely telling of his mental state, how long it takes Ryan to notice his staring.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Ray replies. His hands ball into fists in his lap. “Just… Worried, is all.”

Ryan smiles weakly. “It’ll be okay.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Ray breathes.

“Well, it will.” Ryan closes his eyes and breathes deeply through his nose before continuing. “I’m just gonna be a little stupid until Michael gets back, is all.”

“Right,” Ray snorts. “ _Just_ until Michael gets back.”

“If I stay dumb, at least we’ll match.” Ryan fires back immediately with a smirk.

Then they both giggle. And Ray has an indecent thought and he has to look away. That thought is cut short by the sudden fit of coughing that has Ryan leaned far back into the couch with an arm slung over his mouth.

“Ryan? Hey, man, are you okay?” Ray tries to keep the panic out of his voice.

Ryan nods, then squeezes his eyes shut for another round of coughs. Once he makes it through that, his arm drops back to his side like it’s made of steel and he tips his head back and just breathes for a few moments.

“Damn,” He mutters. “It’s been a while since I was last sick. I forgot how much this sucks.”

“...Are you in pain?” Ray’s voice is barely above a whisper, but one of Ryan’s ears twitches- he definitely caught it.

After a moment, he shakes his head. “Nah… It’s just… My chest is tight. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” Ray’s left hand curls over his own chest. He definitely knows the feeling.

Quiet settles between them. Ray eventually reaches for his DS and picks back up with his Pokémon game. It’s harder to navigate the buttons, but he mostly just needs to use the D-Pad anyway, so he’s just a bit slower than usual. Ryan kind of flops over so his head is resting against Ray’s arm. One of his ears is a bit smushed but he doesn’t seem to mind, so Ray doesn’t comment. He tries not to worry about how much warmth Ryan is radiating.

It takes him a moment to regain his bearings, and then he rolls back into it. Ryan remains quiet while he grinds his Tentacruel up to an acceptable level in preparation for Blaine. He keeps leaning in closer and gradually tucking himself up against Ray, and Ray doesn’t mind- _nope this is fine this is great actually thanks for asking_ \- but his heartbeat picks up and he’s acutely aware of how the thin, wispy hairs forming a point on the tip of Ryan’s ear is kind of tickling his arm and hey wow oops he just selected the wrong move.

“Why is the squid called Honolulu?” Ryan murmurs as Ray watches the turn go to waste.

“It’s a Tentacruel. Honolulu is its nickname.”

“Tentacruel,” Ryan repeats, but he severely mangles the syllables- what he actually says sounds more like _Trench-a-cool._

“Nah, it’s Tentacruel. Like, _Tenta,_ and then _Cruel_.”

“Trench-a-cool.”

“...Sure.”

Meg returns with a bowl of something steaming that smells heavenly.

“Chicken noodle, brought to you by our dearest Chef Campbell.”

Ryan sits up properly again. Ray holds in his disappointment only to swallow it when Ryan scoots over so there’s barely an inch between them. While he’s cradling the soup in front of him Ray shares a moment of meaningful eye contact with Meg which is mostly her flicking between them, then raising her eyebrows.

“I’m going to go bring some of this to Lindsay,” Meg declares with a cheery smile. “Ray, please help yourself if you’re hungry.”

Ryan is still absorbed in the soup, so Ray risks shooting a withering look her direction. She winks and makes her exit.

“You enjoying that soup, buddy?” Ray eventually asks, because Ryan is _very intent_ on the bowl, holy shit.

“...What?” Ryan looks up to stare into the middle distance and blinks a few times.

“Uh… You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just… I’m okay. I’m not really hungry, though.”

“Oh.” Ray worries his lower lip. How long has it been since Ryan ate? He’s been out for a long time already, and Ray doubts he ate after they came back last night. So the last thing he had was that sandwich. “Can you try to eat a little bit, at least?”

Ryan closes his eyes and nods slowly.

He starts taking small sips from the spoon, so Ray returns to his game and keeps an eye on Ryan through his peripherals.

Time passes, like it always does. Meg and Lindsay wander in and out. Ryan eats about half of the soup, then passes the rest of the bowl off to Ray. Once he polishes it off Ryan goes back to leaning against Ray’s shoulder to watch him play. The few words shared between them are commentary on the game’s stilted dialogue and the trainer sprites.

_“‘Super nerd’…?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“Huh.”_

Ray notices Ryan starting to wince a bit every time the screen flashes. He starts to pay attention and, yep, he’s definitely reacting to it.

“Is something wrong?”

Ryan closes his eyes and inhales deeply through his nose. “I think I’m getting a migraine.”

Ray hisses sympathetically. He’s only had a couple in his lifetime, but both times left him completely incapacitated and wishing for death, because that would be better than sitting there in that kind of pain. In lieu of that, Jack offered him something to reduce swelling and help him fall asleep. But the stuff that reduces swelling usually also gets used to lower fevers, so... That’s a no-go.

“Anything I can do?”

A hint of color appears on Ryan’s cheeks. Ray isn’t sure if it’s because of the fever or what he says next. “Would it… Can you…” He coughs awkwardly. “Play with my hair?”

Ray blinks a few times in quick succession. Ryan shrinks back when he fails to respond, prompting Ray to reach out and keep him from moving away. “Yeah. Yes. I can do that.” But the angle of Ryan leaning against his shoulder doesn’t make for very high quality head pets, so Ray bites his lower lip and half-pulls half-guides Ryan to rest his head in Ray’s lap, lying flat on his back.

This arrangement is much more conducive. Ray gets to work threading his fingers through Ryan’s hair, being mindful of his ears, and thinks as hard as he can about literally anything else, oh god, now is _not the time, that’s not going to happen._ Levelling his team- no, that’s now mentally linked with Ryan- The time Ray made an early morning booze delivery to Geoff only to find he was still hammered from the previous night and wearing _nothing_. Yep, okay, there it is. With that, any beginnings of unfortunate physical responses are wiped out, and he can just chill.

The only downside of this situation (aside from the obvious) as Ray sees it is that he only has one good hand, and now that it’s busy scratching gently over Ryan’s scalp, he doesn’t really have anything else to do.

He has nothing to occupy his thoughts. Naturally, they drift magnetically toward the only thing he wants to think about even less than boner-inducing things. His instinct is to hide from it. He wants to smother it with other things until he can safely lock it in a box somewhere deep in his mind and just _forget_ about it.

But he knows that isn’t going to cut it this time. And somehow, with Ryan so close, a cold resolve of bravery sinks over Ray until he runs out of ways to justify bottling that shit right up.

He waits a few moments, paying close attention to Ryan’s face. When he doesn’t stir or break his slow, even breaths, Ray decides that it’s safe enough to turn his mental attentions elsewhere.

It was evening, and he was near-delusional with unsourced anxiety. As soon as he left Ryan behind to head back, his memories begin to jumble; the timeline and certainty scatter around and form bizarre, nonsensical events. He’s able to sort the false from the real, for the most part- no, the trees did not have faces, yes, his wrist was snapped- but there are still some points where he isn’t quite able to parse how close to reality his recollection falls.

The most significant area of this comes when he tries to remember what Edgar looked like. Tall? Yes, he thinks so- taller than Ryan, at least. He was dirty and… Hollow. Like if Ray were to cut into Edgar’s skin, he would find only emptiness beneath. There was a distinct smell of blood and something sour and bodily that Ray could not identify. And his voice… It was scratchy and devoid of emotion. His tone indicated intent, sure, but it wasn’t backed by anything real. It was empty like the rest of him.

He wasn’t able to move until Ryan physically hauled Edgar off of him. After that, he was hit with several overwhelming things, all at once- the most dominant of which was the cold, disassociated _rage_ that consumed him when Ryan was about to be killed. The pain of his injuries did not leave him but he no longer cared about any of it. His singular purpose was to protect Ryan.

Edgar, for whatever reason, fled.

Gavin came shortly after and it’s only on reflection that Ray realizes the strain in his voice, the way he was practically pleading for Ray to believe that Ryan had hurt him, to get out of the way and give him a clean shot. But that choice was worlds away and Ray stood his ground until Gavin ran off.

And then all of that bravado and resolve left him and he was back to fighting through the haze of a panic-adrenaline cocktail while dragging himself and Ryan back to Lindsay’s place.

Ryan couldn’t walk more than a few stumbling steps on his own. He almost certainly would have bled out, had Ray not escorted him to help. But Ray would have been gutted and displayed like the little boy from before if Ryan hadn’t pulled Edgar off of him and fought him in spite of the literal arrow in his side.

The memory of what Ryan said- _screamed-_ hits Ray like a fucking bus.

Run.

He told Ray to run.

So that’s back to zero on the life-debt scale.

Below his hand, Ryan shifts and his lips part just long enough to let a nearly inaudible whine escape. His brows are furrowed and a sweat has broken out alongside the clamminess of his skin. Shit.

Ray increases the enthusiasm of his attentions and pays close attention to Ryan’s half-conscious reactions. He eventually establishes that Ryan relaxes the most when he scratches right around the base of his ears, without actually touching them. He turns his focus to that area and keeps up through the horrific cramp that hits his hand because Ryan looks completely miserable, and this is literally the only thing Ray can do to help right now.

Something akin to a peace falls over him. He’s teetering on the edge of sleepiness when Ruby sits up from where she’s been lounging on her bed under the window. If Ray has learned anything over the past few days, it’s that he should absolutely pay attention to the cats.

She tilts her head up and sniffs for a moment. Then she delicately crosses the room and stops next to the couch, eyeing them curiously. Ryan’s right ear twitches, and a moment later, he has a cat curling up on his legs and purring.

Well, that’s better than an omen of doom, Ray supposes.

...Man, what the hell is Ray going to say to Jack when he sees him? It’ll happen eventually. At least he’s an official adult now, so if things go bad, he can always just… What? Crash in Lindsay’s place and be a fucking NEET? Great plan, Ray. Way to spend your life doing something meaningful. Besides, he’s not sure if he could even handle letting things between him and Jack stay the way they are.

Leaving on such bad terms wasn’t fun, but Ray was mostly running on anger at that point. But now that he has a break from the chaos and the distractions, he’s left with only creeping negativity- guilt weighs down his chest while sadness weighs down his mind. Jack, misguided as he is, was just trying to look out for him. He’s always been there to protect Ray. Always. And no matter how much Ray complains or whines about being fussed over, he’s silently grateful for that attention in ways that he can’t express.

It’s obvious to everyone who sees them that Jack loves Ray. And he probably wouldn’t admit it easily, but Ray loves Jack just as much. He’s the only family Ray’s ever had.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by Ryan twitching his ear against Ray’s palm. Ryan has cracked open his eyes enough to look up at Ray with a tight expression. “What’s wrong?”

“You look worried.”

Ray huffs out a surprised breath. “Do I? Sorry.”

“Are you?”

He purses his lips. “...A little.”

“Why are you worried?”

“I…” Ray hesitates. But something about the way Ryan is looking at him makes him want to continue. “I feel shitty about how I left things with Jack.”

“You fought, right?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean… Sort of? He wouldn’t believe what I was telling him, about you not being a big bad wolf.”

Ryan’s gaze flits away for a moment, then returns to Ray. “M’sorry.”

“What? Why?”

“You fought with Jack because of me.”

“It wasn’t because of you, Rye. This would have come up eventually; he needs to stop treating me like I’m still the five-year-old brat he took in. I’m eighteen, for fucks sake.” He pauses. “Like, I know that he’s just acting this way because he cares about me and wants me to be safe, but…”

“He still needs to treat you like an adult.” Ryan agrees.

“Yeah,” Ray sighs. “Maybe if he did, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”

The front door slams open. Ray starts to twist his upper body to look but stops when that earns him some serious whining from his bruised ribs. Fucking hell, that’s going to be even more annoying than the hand.

His trivial worries take an immediate backseat to the bigger things he had set aside when _Jack_ walks through the door. He’s followed in by a couple more people, but Ray’s mind barely acknowledges them- it has better things to do, like repeating swear words and blindly flipping between panic and complete short-circuit radio silence.

Ryan, who apparently was watching Ray’s face do some impressive acrobatics, tries to sit up to see who came in, but he grunts and falls back down less than halfway through the motion. The impact of Ryan’s head so close to his groin does a wonderful job of breaking Ray’s stupor.

“Shit, fuck, Rye, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Yeah. I’m fine.” His words are contradicted by the tightly pinched expression on his face and the pallid tone of his skin.

Ray sweeps the strands of hair that fell onto Ryan’s face back. In the commotion, Jack slipped into the main area, followed closely by Jeremy and Lindsay.

Ryan stiffens slightly at the sight of him. Ray’s hand curls slightly in his hair, as if to protect him somehow.

The silence is broken just as it begins to become tense.

“Michael was attacked.” Lindsay says. Her voice is tight and carefully controlled. “He’s safe now, but Edgar got him pretty good. Gavin intervened.”

Jeremy pulls a small vial from somewhere in his jacket and hands it to Lindsay. She studies it for a moment, then nods curtly and heads off down the hall. She back less than a minute later with something oblong in plastic packaging.

“Sit him up.”

Ray holds Ryan’s hand and forces himself to remain calm as Lindsay carefully peels the bandage away, revealing the ugly wound beneath. And it is truly horrific to look at; the broken skin is surprisingly small, but extending radially outward from it is raised, shiny skin flushed an angry red. The center contrasts that redness with the white of infection.

Lindsay withdraws a syringe from the plastic and Ray has to look away.

Ryan’s grip on his hand tightens significantly for a moment, and then relaxes once more.

“Gavin said this’ll probably knock you out, since it’s an anesthetic, too.” Jeremy looks over to Lindsay. “It might be better to move him to a bed.”

“Right.” She nods. “Let’s get him to my room. Here, help me…” He flits to her side and helps to gently pull Ryan to his feet and support his uneven hobble down the hall.

Jack stands, tense and uncertain, until Ray finally looks up and meets his eyes.

“You can sit.” Ray says, then thinks better, and tacks on, “If you want to.”

With clearly evident relief, Jack deposits himself onto one of the armchairs and clears his throat.

“What happened to your arm?

Ray glances down automatically. Right. Plaster cast. “Edgar.”

Jack’s eyes widen. “ _What_?” Ray wishes he could cross his arms defensively over his chest at Jack’s tone.

“Yeah. I was out on the path, and… And he got me. Snapped my wrist and bruised my ribs up pretty good.”

Jack’s expression is visibly strained. “And he…?” He mimes hands around his neck. Ray nods, and that strain quickly darkens into something cold and methodical. If someone were to crack open Jack’s head and let the contents of his thoughts flow free, Ray’s certain he would see an organized catalogue of Edgar’s various limbs and organs, all laid neatly out on a shelf.

“I… He was going to kill me,” Ray starts, resenting his throat for how his voice cracks. “If Ryan hadn’t… If it weren’t for him, I would be dead.”

The icy vengeance is set aside for a scrunch in Jack’s brow. “ _Ryan_ saved _you_?”

“Yes. He did.” Ray replies, slightly hesitant.

But Jack shakes the confusion off of his features and switches back to soft concern. _Mama Jack Mode activated,_ Ray thinks to himself. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ray.”

That startles him a little bit. It’s not uncommon for Jack to swear around him, but Ray cannot think of any occasion where Jack swore while speaking _to_ Ray. Not even when he made the shitty potion and almost died.

“I should have believed you. You may be young, but that doesn’t mean I can protect you from the world. I understand that I have to let you do things on your own.”

Jack bows his head.

“I should have listened,” he repeats, almost dreamily. “And maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

“No,” Ray interjects. “It would have happened anyway. He was stalking me. There’s no way that I could have avoided that confrontation.”

Jack gazes up at him, and he has finally abandoned the careful shield over his expression. In his face Ray can now see the writings of stress, of fear, and of sadness. That unlocks the door behind which Ray has shoved his own turmoil over being separated from his parent.

Before he knows it, they’re standing in the middle of the room, locked in an embrace and crying. It’s cathartic, and Jack is finally there to rub circles into his back and hold him until they’re both too tired to keep it up, and they collapse onto Lindsay’s couch with damp cheeks and running noses.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Jack sniffs. “I have a terribly inappropriately timed gift for you.”

“A gift?”

Jack smallish black box from his pocket and hands it to Ray. “Happy eighteenth birthday.”

Inside is quite possibly the most beautiful thing Ray has ever seen. It’s a knife made of some kind of metal that seems to catch the sunlight and scatter it into a hundred colors. The hilt is dark and embellished with rose emblems. That same emblem is etched into the side of the blade itself, tying the whole thing together.

“Oh, my god,” Ray breathes. “You got me a sick-ass rose knife.”

Jack chokes on his laughter and spends several moments coughing. Once he regains his breath, he explains, “I had it custom made. It was forged under very special conditions by a good friend of mine. Once you’ve received some proper training, I don’t think you’ll have any trouble at all defending yourself.”

He grins up at Jack. “Really?”

Jack smiles warmly in return. “Of course.”

He stands and quickly retrieves Ray’s hood from where it’s been thrown over a chair, forgotten in the recent chaos. Ray once again feels a pang of loss for the rose. Does Ryan still have his? Perhaps Ray can pawn a few of the petals off of him, and… What? Glue them to something? He dismisses the thought and returns his attention to Jack, who is now turning the hood inside out.

Jack runs his fingers down the lining that would rest over his heart. After a moment, the fabric seems to brighten, and Ray feels like he can see little glimmers of light hidden, but he can never get more than a glance, because they fade out of sight if he looks too closely. Then Jack turns the hood out again sets about draping it over Ray’s shoulders.

It’s noticeably cleaner than before, but other than that, Ray is unsure of the difference. At least, he is until Jack takes the sheathed knife and lifts the fabric over his left side, revealing a new addition- a pair of straps the same color as the rest of the lining, rendering them virtually invisible. Ray takes the knife with his left hand and, with some difficulty, slides the sheath into place. It doesn’t jostle and he finds that he can barely feel it.

“Man, this thing didn’t already have enough magic for you?” Ray says, but he’s grinning.

Jack ruffles his hair. “Never enough magic.”

The silence between them is comfortable, but the fear and uncertainty of Ray’s last several days comes creeping back to him, as it always does.

“What happens now?” Ray eventually asks.

“Well,” Jack begins, looking thoughtful. “Geoff has requested that we return to his place once Ryan’s well enough. All of us, together. It’s much more easily defensible than Lindsay’s house, and he has a pretty impressive arsenal squirrelled away from over the years.”

Ray is apprehensive to see Geoff again after all the trouble he’s caused, but he can’t argue with Jack’s reasoning. It’s not like there’s anywhere else that would serve their purposes better. His and Jack’s home is much too small. From what he understands of its location, Michael and Gavin’s would have the same problem. Everyone else is much too out of the way, and the abandoned place along the path is one strong storm from falling apart. Geoff’s place, it is.

Lindsay and Jeremy return. Ray watches their faces for signs of Ryan’s condition, but they don’t seem upset.

Jeremy scrubs a hand over his face. “I knew shit was going down, but…”

Ray lifts his plastered arm. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, shit. That sucks.”

“No kidding.” Ray almost drops his arm back down on autopilot, but catches himself at the last moment, barely avoiding smashing his junk. He flinches and resettles himself before continuing. “Was your adventure in the outside world fun?”

Things have been busy recently, but Ray’s been wanting to catch up with Jeremy since he saw him the other day. He’s a good friend, and fun to hang out with. It sucked to not have him around.

“Yeah,” Jeremy replies. “It was a good time.”

“What did you do out there?” Lindsay asks.

He hesitates, then responds quietly. “I went to visit someone I knew growing up.”

Apparently sensing his continued reluctance to volunteer details, she doesn’t ask him anything else.

 

“...So, you’re fucking with me, right?” Ray says as he stares at the object before him.

Lindsay grins. “Not a chance. Hop on in!”

Somehow, they manage to maneuver so Ray and Ryan are both seated inside the oversized Radio Flyer wagon. Jeremy grabs the handle and they start the trek to Geoff’s place with Lindsay and Meg ahead of them and Jack taking up the rear.

Ray’s back is pressed flush with Ryan’s chest. His legs are crossed over the tops of Ryan’s outstretched ones. He can feel every move, every _breath_ Ryan takes- and he’s sure the inverse is true. He’s just grateful that this arrangement hides his face from Ryan’s view so he can’t see how red he is right now.

“Are you alright?” Ryan murmurs, just loud enough to be heard over the racket of the wagon going over the path’s uneven terrain. It would shock Ray if Jeremy could hear them.

“Yeah,” Ray breathes back. “Why? What’s up?”

“Your ears are getting red.”

Ray stiffens and promptly buries his face in his hands, which results in the plaster poking his cheek uncomfortably, but he doesn’t really care, because he needs to hide right now.

“...Oh.” Ryan leans back a fraction of an inch, giving Ray just a tiny bit of room. He wants to lean back and regain the contact, but that impulse just makes him turn _more_ red, and now Ryan is clearly stifling laughter, fuck.

“Shh, shh. Shut up,” Ray hisses through his fingers. “You’re still warm. It’s making me warm, too. That’s all.”

“Okay,” He agrees, sounding far from sincere.

Ray grumbles under his breath and sighs, wishing he had something to do. The DS is in his pouch, like always, but he doesn’t want to risk dropping it, what with his fucked up hand and all. And that’s pretty much the extent of what he brought with him to Lindsay’s, so…

“Ryan. Psst,” Ray whispers.

A hand brushes against his arm in a silent acknowledgement.

“You have super wolf hearing. What are Lindsay and Meg talking about?”

Ryan snorts. “Am I supposed to spy on them for you?”

Ray shrugs. “I’m bored. Come on, be a friend.”

For a moment, Ray thinks that Ryan really isn’t going to do it. But then he sighs and starts relaying their conversation quietly into Ray’s left ear.

“They’re talking about one of Meg’s past jobs. I think it’s the one where they met, actually.”

“Really? Do you know the story?”

Ryan hums the affirmative. “Bits and pieces, yeah. Meg was looking for Lindsay’s boss, or coworker. But they were getting suspicious of a newcomer hitting the same bakery over and over, so Meg needed to find a cover- and that cover was flirting with Lindsay. She eventually got the person and handed them over, but she stuck around in Lindsay’s hometown for a full month, because…”

Ryan pauses. Ray turns his head slightly to glance at his face through his peripherals, ignoring the dull flare of pain from his bruises as he does so. And it was worth the effort; Ryan’s gaze is averted and his cheeks are slowly filling with color.

“Anyway, she ended up staying awhile. She gave Lindsay her real name and contact information before she left, though, and they kept in touch. Met up a couple of times.”

Hometown.

Lindsay isn’t even that much older than him, but Ray feels worlds behind in terms of experience. He lives in a magic forest full of crazy things and people to match, sure, but it’s the only place he’s ever really _been_. Part of that is his own fault- Ray won’t deny that he’s willingly missed opportunities to travel with Jack in the past. And he’s not even dissatisfied with having lead his life this way. It’s just strange to remember that the people he’s grown up around didn’t start out exactly where they are.

“...How did you and Meg meet?” Ray asks quietly. But he knows Ryan will hear him.

“That’s, uh. A long story.”

Ray bows his head a bit on instinct, trying to hide his disappointment.

“But it’s not one I mind telling. Just… It’s not very happy, I guess. You should probably know that up front.”

Ray nods in acknowledgement and waits for Ryan to start.

“When I was younger, another member of my pack betrayed us, and… As a result of what he did, a few people died. The elders were furious, but we didn’t have the resources to send out a hunting party, and this man knew how to hide so he wouldn’t be found by us. So, a few people suggested that we hire a PI.”

“Meg.” Ray supplies.

“Yes. She’s the one we eventually ended up contacting. The elders wanted to send someone from the pack to escort her- make sure she didn’t sell us out to other packs, basically- and they ended up choosing me. I was pretty quiet for the first couple of weeks because I wasn’t thrilled by the situation, but she got me to open up a lot over time, and we ended up being friends. Then we found the man. He recognized me and immediately attacked, but I kind of froze up, and he landed a hit on Meg. She went down. Then…” Ryan stops, clears his throat. Ray feels how stiff he’s become as he speaks and rests his good hand on Ryan’s shin in an effort to comfort him. “Then I killed him. She asked me, after, why I had frozen up. I never told her the answer, but she found out anyway when we went back to the pack and she collected her payment. The elders seemed pretty excited to honor a member of their own for killing his father to avenge members of the pack.”

Oh.

“...Jack’s not my dad.” Ray eventually says, because he has no idea how to respond to such an emotional and open experience except by offering up his own. “I never met my biological father, but I remember the man that my mother married. Which sucks, because I don’t really remember _her_ that much.” He has to pause to collect his thoughts. Ryan rests his hand gently on top of Ray’s own, still on Ryan’s leg. It steadies him. “He wasn’t a fan of little Hispanic kids who cried when he hit the women in the house.”

He was only five when it happened, but Ray remembers the night that his stepfather came for him with vivid clarity. The door opened in the middle of the night and Ray sat bolt upright in bed, because his older sister kept it locked from the inside ‘to keep the monsters out,’ and she never dared venture out to the bathroom before dawn. He cried out, tried to get her attention- but she couldn’t hear him. No one could hear him. Not his mother, not his sister, and not the absent God that watched on indifferently as a child was stolen from his room and thrown in the trunk of a strange car while his guardian took dirty money from the driver.

It was dark and cold in the trunk- he had only his pajamas to protect against the December chill- but Ray forced himself to stay awake for the hours that passed before the car finally stopped. His temporary prison was opened and someone reached to grab him, but he had used the jagged edge of one of the broken tail lights to cut his bindings loose, so he promptly punched them in the face like he saw on TV and booked it. He was lucky; the man who collected him was alone that night, and Ray managed to channel what little strength his undersized fist could create into a blow that knocked him out cold. The forest was freezing and filled with shadows and his wrists were bleeding, along with his knees and elbows from where he tripped over roots and scraped them.

He was tired and hungry and scared. He wanted his mom and his warm bed and the lullabies she used to sing to him. But he kept running.

The crumbling silhouette of a stone house came rushing up to meet his racing footsteps just as it began to rain, and that’s where Ray sheltered for the rest of the night, curled up into a shivering ball of sharp points and bony limbs.

That’s how Jack found him, on his way to Geoff’s house a few hours later, when the sun had risen enough to cast dull gray light through the canopy.

“Long story short, he sold me to this dude that provides children for serial killers. I managed to escape into the woods, and Jack found me half frozen to death and covered in blood.”

“That’s horrific.” Ryan murmurs.

“So we both have asshole dads, I guess. It’s cool to have something in common.”

Ryan huffs out a small laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.”

They spend the rest of the journey in comfortable quiet. It’s been a long time since Ray allowed himself to recall that night in such detail; normally, it would leave him shaken and distant for days. Now, though, he doesn’t feel so much like curling up and disappearing. It still sucks, and he still knows that it wasn’t fair or right that it happened, but he feels like he’s better equipped to deal with it, now. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he leans unconsciously backward into Ryan’s warmth.

The front door to Geoff’s house opens before anyone can knock. Standing beyond the threshold is the man himself, looking tired but not aggressive. If Ray isn’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of something apologetic in his eyes as he waves them all in, particularly when his gaze passes briefly over Ryan.

Geoff leads them wordlessly to the second, smaller living room in the back of the house. A fire crackles and basks the room in a golden glow. Stepping through the doorway instantly washes Ray in a bath of heat, and he wants to remove all superfluous clothing instantly, but he still can’t take things off of his upper body by himself, and that’s not a favor he’s willing to ask for in front of so many people.

On one of the three couches crammed into the room are Gavin and Michael, the latter of whom is almost completely cocooned within a blanket in spite of the room’s crushing warmth. Gavin sits on one end with Michael’s head cradled in his lap and a hand tangled in his russet curls. Michael is fast asleep.

It takes only one short glance at the way Gavin is looking intantly at Michael’s resting features for Ray to become embarrassed enough that he has to look away. Their familiar positioning is bad enough, but he’s certain, somehow, that if he were to travel back in time to just a matter of hours ago, he would see an identical expression on his own face as he carded his hand through Ryan’s hair.

Jack, apparently sensing his flickering discomfort, places a reassuring hand on Ray’s shoulder. He sinks back gratefully into the touch.

“So!” Geoff says, clapping his hands together. “Everyone sit your asses down so we can strategize.” Michael and Gavin are taking up three seats, which leaves the two other three-seater couches- someone will be left standing. Ray wonders who will end up with the short end of the stick (certainly not him, because he is more than willing to play every injury card he’s got under his belt right now). Eventually, everyone but Geoff settles into a seat. He seems unconcerned, apparently preferring to stand in front of the fire so as to command the collective attention of the room.

Ray sits on the end beside Jack with Jeremy at the other end. Meg sits between Lindsay and Ryan on the other couch. Once everyone has settled and Gavin has torn his attention away from Michael long enough to make brief, meaningful eye contact with Geoff, their informal strategy meeting begins.

“Alright. This motherfucker is getting deaded. How do we do it?”

Ah, yes. This is the articulate Geoff that Ray remembers from so many drunken rambles.

When no one jumps in, Geoff crosses his arms and leans back, peering at them all in turn through his half-lidded eyes. “No one knows how to kill a wolfman?”

“Well,” Ryan starts, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “There’s no special method. Wolves can die from all the same things as regular humans; it’s just harder, because we heal so fast.”

“So it’s gotta be fast. There’s a start!” And the dissatisfied frown on Geoff’s face morphs into a pleased grin. “Any special weaknesses?”

It’s Meg who replies this time. “We don’t do well when our organs are ruptured.”

“...Like a normal human.”

She quirks a brow and tilts her head to the side.

“Right. Just normal people, but with ears and tails and shit. Got it.”

“You’re going out to kill the bastard, then?” It’s the first time Ray’s heard him speak since the night with Edgar. Gavin’s voice is quiet and haggard, but it does not shake. He doesn’t look up from Michael as he continues, “He deserves much worse an end than I could ever give him.”

There’s a tense quiet in the air.

Then, “Nnm. Quit bein’ so dramatic, Gavver.”

“Michael?” Gavin’s hand freezes mid-pet. “You awake, love?”

“Yeah.” Michael grunts. He slowly blinks his eyes open, squinting against even the dim light provided by the fire. “Fucking unfortunately.”

They pause in their discussion long enough for Gavin to help Michael stiffly sit up. Ray tries not to stare too long at the patchwork of bandage and peeks of inflamed skin that comprises his bare chest. Jack, Geoff, and Jeremy watch, grim, but unsurprised. Lindsay’s body language shift so her shoulders are square and her back is straight, making her seem larger and more intimidating- like a cat upon seeing something threaten its territory. Meg is watching Ryan. Ray follows her gaze and quickly learns why; his expression is stricken with something harsh and critical. One of his hands hovers uncertainly over the site of his own wound, fully healed by now, but something in his expression tells Ray that he isn’t just commiserating- he’s blaming himself.

He wishes he were sat next to Ryan, so he could offer him some form of comfort.

“Welcome back, Michael,” Geoff says with a softness in his tone that Ray hasn’t heard before. “Are you in pain? Do you need more of Denecour’s mix?”

Michael shakes his head. Ray doesn’t miss the slight flinch as he does so.

“Okay, buddy. Let me know.” Geoff casts another uncertain look in Michael’s direction, then continues on. “I don’t think we really need much of a formal plan here. Just take a shit ton of weapons and kill the big bad wolf.”

“He has psychic abilities that you’ll need to defend against.” Ryan says. “All of you have some form of protection in place already, but he’s tricky. He knows how to get around most common shields. Gavin, you, Meg, and I should all be fine, because of our animal characteristics-”

“I’m not going.” Gavin interrupts.

“Oh.” Ryan pauses, clears his throat, and continues. “Well, the rest of you still need to worry about it. Jack, do you have anything?”

“How much protection are we talking here?” Jack crosses his arms, leaning back and clearly kicking into inventory mode.

“Enough to resist a Class C Memetic.”

Jack closes his eyes for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I should have enough to cover us.”

“We’ll stop by your place on the way out, then.” Geoff declares.

“How are we gonna find this dude?” Jeremy asks.

“I’ve got that covered.” Meg replies with a sly smile.

“And I’m covering weapons, so that should be everything. Unless there’s something I’m forgetting, or something I need to know?” Geoff gives the room one last sweeping look before nodding, satisfied. “Alright. Who’s coming with?”

“I’m going.” Lindsay and Meg say at the same time. Jeremy nods and raises his hand.

Then...

“I’m going too.” Ryan says, and there’s an air of finality in his tone.

Ray finds himself silently shaking his head. Jack speaks up with the authority that he lacks. “Are you sure you’re up for it? Your wound is still recovering, and it may not be a good idea to-”

“Jack,” Ryan cuts him off, expression openly revealing the past months of loss and anger he’s faced. “I appreciate your concern. But this is something I have to do.”

Ray expects Jack to argue, to insist that Ryan remain behind- but he doesn’t.

“Okay.” Is all he says in reply. “I’ll stay and guard the door. Gavin, I’m sure you’ll want to stay with Michael?”

Gavin nods. At the same time, Michael says, “Fuck off. I can take care of myself.”

Gavin pays him no mind, reaching over to smooth down some of his hair and rest his arm around Michael’s shoulders on the back of the couch.

“Alright. Weapons are kept in the closet near the entrance. The password is ‘I fucking hate literally all of you’. Take whatever you want.” With that, Geoff ambles out of the room. The others quickly filter out after him.

“I’m gonna go make sure I’m fully healed,” Ryan says, standing and heading for the doorway.

Ray bites his lip and stares straight ahead, struggling to get a grasp on his feelings. Catching Edgar has been Ryan’s entire world for _months_ , but the last time he got close, he almost died. And there’s no way to be sure that Ryan’s actually healed up; he could claim to be fine, then end up getting hurt worse, or even...

This is Ryan’s fight. But Ryan is hurt. But this is what Ryan has been working toward for months. But Edgar knows Ryan’s weaknesses. But Ryan needs the closure-

But Ray needs to do something with all of the stupid feelings in his chest.

Without giving himself time to think it through, Ray shoves himself up off of the couch and down the hall, then knocks on the bathroom door. Ryan opens it a moment later, looking curious.

“Something up?” He says.

Ray’s hands go automatically to thread his fingers together, but the cast is in the way, so they end up just kind of colliding in the middle. “Uh,” he says, cursing himself for knocking before he could work out what to say.

Ryan waits patiently with an unreadable expression.

“I…” Ray looks away, because he can’t watch Ryan’s face while he says this. “I don’t want you to go.”

He hears Ryan exhale slowly. “Ray…”

“But, like,” Ray quickly continues, gesturing with his cast. “I know how much this means to you. And I know what’s at stake. And I know the others are perfectly capable of kicking his ass into another dimension, and so are you, but I’m just really fucking worried that you’re going to end up getting hurt again, or that something will happen out there-”

“Ray-”

“I don’t know- I don’t know what the fuck I would _do_ if you got hurt out there, Rye. Like, _really_ hurt. Or if- Fuck. If you didn’t come back, I don’t think I could handle it-”

“-Ray.”

Ryan catches Ray’s waving left hand between both of his own and holds it in the air between them. He leans in and they just stare at each other for a moment, and then Ryan speaks.

“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“...But-”

“I’m not alone,” Ryan continues. “Not this time. Everything is going to turn out okay.”

And Ray knows Ryan is right, knows that Edgar is just one man- but it doesn’t resolve the raw, thrashing thing sitting just outside of his conscious mind. No words ever will.

And while he’s having a mini-crisis, he might as well go through with his impulses.

So Ray pulls his hand free from Ryan’s and places it on his scruffy cheek instead, and kisses him.

It’s much too short for Ryan to react to, and, while he has the upper hand granted by surprise, Ray turns and flees back the way he came.

 

“Oh, hey! Ready to go?” Meg asks as Ryan wanders back into the entryway with a distant expression. He doesn’t reply at first, and she briefly wonders if he hadn’t heard her- but then he blinks hard, flicks his tail, and looks down to make eye contact with her.

“Uh, yeah. I’m good. All healed up.”

She hums in acknowledgement and Ryan immediately goes back to staring at nothing. Meg notes the very subtle color in his cheeks and the way his pupils are blown, along with how his hand hovers in a loose fist over his jaw, mimicking thoughtfulness but landing instead at assessing. People usually touch their faces when they’re thinking or after they’ve told a lie, but the steady beating of Ryan’s heart disproves the latter, and the absent curl of his fingers dismisses the former. So what is it? What is the meaning of the gesture?

She recalls Ray rushing back into the back room with wide eyes and a ducked head.

Ah, yes. The less common third option- remembering how it felt to have someone else’s lips on your own. The kid made a move! She’ll have to remember to look into bakeries nearby so she can get him a cupcake. For now, she focuses on keeping the smirk (mostly) off of her face and turns back to lacing up her boots.

The sun is near setting. Evening returns some of the crisp quality in the air that is blunted by the midday sun, turning the gentle perfume of growth and rot into a sharper, more clear scent. Meg prefers things this way; it’s easier to track a foreign smell when it isn’t being crowded by the quiet decomposition of the fallen undergrowth. It also helps that the temperature is dropping somewhat, since that will keep the scent from expanding out with the heat so much.

She walks a few paces out from Geoff’s property and pauses, letting the environment wash over her with closed eyes and a relaxed posture. There are smells belonging to the plants and the dirt, which she sets to the side. Then, there’s the house behind her, sending traces of warmth and smoke as well as the sturdy materials holding it together. These, too, she glosses over, in favor of what she’s really looking for- people smells. Her own scent, along with those of Lindsay, Jeremy, Jack, Ray, and Ryan echo from their journey here, now stale. There are extra hints of Jack and Jeremy from when they left earlier in the day. But she doesn’t find anything out of place. After one final check, Meg allows her eyes to open again and she places a hand on her hip and looks out into the trees, assessing. If one sense fails, another may prevail.

One ear twitches back to track the sound of someone approaching her from behind. By the gait, she can tell it’s Lindsay, and her heart automatically begins to pick up its pace in response. It’s a good thing that Lindsay can’t hear Meg’s body betraying her as clearly as the inverse is true.

“Got anything?” Lindsay softly prompts.

Meg shakes her head. “Nothing out of place. We’ll have to go in blind.”

“That’s fucking super,” Geoff grumbles from behind them. “Exactly what I wanted to be doing tonight. Wandering through the goddamn forest with no idea where that shit head is, just waiting for him to pounce on our asses and maul another one of us.”

“It’ll be alright, Geoff.” Jeremy reaches up to pat Geoff’s shoulder.

“He won’t be mauling anymore people.” Ryan adds with an air of finality. He seems to have recovered somewhat from whatever Ray did to him; the blush has cleared from his cheeks and he stands at full height with grim determination on his face.

“Geoff,” Meg says, turning around to face him fully. “Can you take us to where Michael was attacked?”

He nods. “Gav saved his coordinates. It’s not far. Come on.”

Geoff leads them down the path. Meg allows herself to let the environment flow around her, only pausing to check scents every few minutes or so. There isn’t a particularly urgent need to pick up a track randomly, since they’re going somewhere that’s guaranteed to have one, but it’s still good to keep her options open, particularly when so many people are depending on her nose.

Doesn’t mean she can’t make conversation while they walk, though.

“So.” Meg nudges Ryan gently with her elbow and grins at the way his ears twitch suspiciously at her tone. “You seem distracted.”

He purses his lips and avoids eye contact. “Not sure what you mean.”

“...Was there tongue?”

Ryan splutters. “What?”

She raises her eyebrows in response.

“I- I don’t- That’s- You-” He covers his face with his hands and mumbles through his fingers, “I can’t deal with this.”

“Cute. Well, I think you two make an adorable couple.”

“We’re not- Oh my god.” Ryan shakes his head. “I’m too old for him.”

“I’d bet good money that it would take exactly one on-topic conversation for you two to end up together.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Ryan drops his hands to peer at Meg. “When are you planning on having that conversation with Lindsay, again?”

Meg’s tail lashes involuntarily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” Now Ryan’s the one smirking. “If that’s the case, I guess I could always go talk to her for you.”

It’s a bluff, but Meg still blurts out, “No!” and glances quickly around to make sure none of the others looked over at her outburst.

Ryan chuckles. Meg crosses her arms and pouts, sniffing dramatically.

An acrid scent, both stale and fresh, hits her hard enough that she freezes in place, mid-step. Her ears and tail shoot upright automatically and she shuts her eyes, focusing on the unpleasant aroma and letting it pass through her nose until she can gather all of the information it has to give. When she finally opens her eyes again, the others have stopped and are all watching her closely.

“He was here,” Meg breathes, quietly, as if her words could cause the trail to dissipate. “Recently.”

“Which way?” Geoff asks.

She takes another moment to assess, then turns in the direction he must have been heading. Without a word, Meg leaves the path to follow it into the trees, knowing the others will keep behind her.

Edgar’s path seems haphazard and random. It cuts straight through thorn bushes and goes in looping circles around small outcroppings of rock or fallen trees. At one point, they cross what appears to be an eviscerated rabbit, and he apparently smeared its blood along the leaves and trunks he passed for the next half mile.

She wrinkles her nose as they pass a trampled fern absolutely bathed in his scent. He must have stopped to rest here, but… Something is out of place. Meg crouches beside it and shuts her eyes once more, taking in the air and fishing through her memories for what quality is sticking out in her mind. The whole time, it’s seemed almost too easy; with how well Edgar can apparently cover his tracks, things have been very weakly concealed. There’s a visual trail as much as a scent to follow and his indirect path makes it seem like he’s made an effort to stay _out_ of the sun, even though the rays would help dissipate the vapor-

The indirect route. The blood. The clearly disturbed plants. The way the fresh scent has been layered over the old one.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Meg whispers. Because she _has_ seen this before. It was a long time ago, back when she was just a beginner.

“What?” Lindsay rushes to her side, leaning down and looking around at the ground like it’s hiding the answers. “What is it?”

“I know what he’s doing,” She murmurs in reply. “This whole thing…”

“Meg,” Ryan says, sharply enough to shake her from the place deep in her memories. Meg stands so quickly she nearly topples over and has to grab Lindsay’s outreached hand to steady herself.

“We have to go back. Now.”

“What?” It’s Geoff who replies this time. “Why?”

“This was a trap to lure us out. He’s going after Ray.”

 

“Shut your fucking _mouth_ , holy shit.” Michael groans and shoves weakly at Gavin, but he just grins. Ray can’t help but smile, watching their easy bickering; there’s a familiar certainty about how they interact that makes him feel calmer, somehow. Like he didn’t royally fuck up the closest thing to a relationship he’s ever had only a couple of hours before.

“But Michael,” Gavin protests. “How would they _know_?”

“I’m pretty sure all of that shit is dictated by your DNA. Your fingers don’t have to think about how many joints to have; they just grow with however many the DNA tells them to.”

Gavin holds his hands out in front of him and squints at them. “But how do they _know_?”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Michael says with a shake of his head, but he’s grinning.

“You’re the bloody stupid one, love. S’not my fault you just never put any thought into the _real_ questions in life.”

“The real- You’re fucking asking me how your fingers know how many joints they’re supposed to have. How- In what fucking _universe_ is that one of ‘the real questions in life’?”

“Maybe Britain,” Ray suggests.

“Britain isn’t another universe, X-Ray.” Gavin points out.

“Maybe not, but you guys sure act like you’re from another planet.” Ray replies.

Michael snorts while Gavin squawks indignantly.

The snort shifts into a raucous cough that leaves him leaning into Gavin and shaking. Ray feels the impact in his own bruised chest and he frowns.

“Ugh, fuck,” Michael wheezes, looking paler than usual. “Gav, can you… The shit Caleb made, can you…”

“On it, boi. Be back in a mo’.” He presses a gentle kiss to Michael’s cheek and gently slides off of the couch.

“M’sorry, Ray.” Michael quietly says once Gavin has left the room.

“...For what?” He asks, furrowing his brows slightly.

“I should’ve listened to you. You were right.”

“I was…” Ray trails off, still not sure what Michael’s talking about- then he remembers his parting warning, before Michael left to get the antidote. It feels like that conversation took place weeks ago. “Oh, about going by yourself? It’s okay, man. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

“Nah. I should have listened,” he repeats, looking down at his feet. “Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be all fucked up now.”

The reply he forms dies on his lips as Gavin returns, holding a glass of something milky-blue in color. He tries to help Michael drink until Michael slaps Gavin’s hand away and downs the whole thing in one go. Barely a minute later, he’s passed out cold with his head buried against Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin shifts and adjusts them until Michael slides down so his head is resting in Gavin’s lap once more, mirroring their positioning from when Ray and the others had first arrived.

“Jesus,” Ray mutters with a slow shake of his head. “What the fuck _is_ that stuff?”

“A gift from Caleb. Geoff calls it ‘coma juice’ because just a glass of the stuff’ll put you out for six hours. He only uses it for very special cases, like this one.”

Ray wonders how many of those ‘special cases’ have been hangovers. “Is it really okay for him to have that? It seems kind of… Dangerous.”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Gavin lifts one of Michael’s limp arms and turns it so Ray can see the large bruise clashing with the pale skin of his forearm. His mouth falls open; it’s already half its original size and quickly shifting toward the later colors of its life cycle. “Michael’s not a normal human- I don’t think normal humans can even live here, honestly. But Michael is special because his body can regenerate itself at extremely rapid rates. As far as we know, it isn’t actually possible to kill him without completely ruining his brain. But it takes a lot out of him so he prefers to sleep while he recovers from particularly nasty wounds.”

“Wait,” Ray says, having stopped listening after the first sentence. “What do you mean, ‘normal humans can’t live here’?”

Gavin gives him a measuring look. “Well, have you ever seen a normal person here?”

“Uh,” Ray gestures to himself. “Me?”

Slowly, Gavin’s head tilts to the side as he watches Ray with wide, confused eyes. “Normal humans can’t do magic, though.”

“...Yes?” Ray replies.

“So you’re not a normal human.”

“I can’t do magic.”

“But I saw you!” Gavin’s brows furrow.

Ray shakes his head. “Dude, I’ve never done magic before. I’m a totally normal human.”

“I saw you,” Gavin repeats. “On the night when you were attacked- Your eyes went all glowy.”

“What?”

“They did! You stood up and started _staring_ at me, and it made my limbs go all-” he waves his hands around in the air limply. “I had to shift into bird form to get away. I couldn’t move at all.”

“I… What? What the fuck?” Ray flips his hands over in his lap to stare at them. Well, mostly it’s just his left hand that he’s looking at, but. Still.

“Yeah, it was crazy! Geoff never told me you had bloody super powers.”

“It’s news to me, dude. What the _fuck_ .” He tries to recall how he felt. Ryan was bleeding, and Ray was in pain, and then Gavin was trying to _shoot_ Ryan, and then he was overwhelmed by that anger, and Gavin fled almost immediately. Had he tapped into some hidden ability? Does this mean that he’s not really a normal human?

...Did Jack know?

Now that he thinks about it, Michael had said something on the day that they met- he asked Geoff if Ray was magical after learning that he was able to free himself from Edgar’s creepy psychic grip. Ray had assumed that it was Ryan’s presence that had broken the link. Was there something else at play that afternoon? He supposes it’s possible that the suggestible state he was in was broken by his own will to return to the path. But, if that’s the case, why couldn’t he break it when Edgar attacked him?

The day he met Ryan, the grip had felt like a warm fog of agreement and trust. The night he was attacked, it was more like his entire body was being held in place by an invisible layer of frost. The memory makes the icy sensation creep up his spine anew, and Ray quickly tries to banish it from his mind. But it doesn’t go away. He shudders and feels his expression twist as if he’s tasted something sour. His left hand curls tightly into a fist in his lap. Anxiety clouds up in his chest and starkly outlines the harsh beating of his heart.

Ray’s not sure what possesses him to turn his head, exactly. Maybe some innate sense of self preservation, or a subconscious awareness of his surroundings. Something, _something_ makes it clear that it’s extremely important for Ray to look at the doorway.

After what happened, the sight of dead eyes inches from his own had been burned into Ray’s mind as the worst thing he had ever and could ever see. Now, though, he knows he was wrong. There is something much, much worse than seeing a monster:

Seeing that same monster a second time.

In the doorway, covered in blood that can only be Jack’s, and smiling.

“Hello, Little Red.”

Ray can’t move, but Gavin apparently can; without hesitation, he leaps up and sprints at Edgar with righteous fury in his eyes. But he’s unarmed; Geoff has a firm ‘check your weapons at the door’ policy, and that applies to Gavin’s bow. Edgar easily ducks under Gavin’s uncoordinated swing and swipes his arm across Gavin’s chest. The blow was deceptively strong; Gavin’s skinny form is sent sailing through the air and crashing into the wall with an audible cracking of bones. He crumples to the floor and does not move.

Edgar turns back to grin at Ray. “No more interruptions.”

Ray’s eyes flick desperately to Michael, but he’s still blissfully dead to the world on the couch opposite. He tries to stand, to tell his limbs to push him forward, up, and out of the room- do _something, holy shit, don’t just sit here and accept death_ \- but they won’t listen to him. His mind is clear this time, but his limbs won’t fucking listen. This is somehow worse.

“You know,” Edgar says, taking a small step forward. Ray tracks the motion with wide eyes. “I didn’t even care that much about you. Ryan intervened, and I missed a meal, but it didn’t really _matter_ that much.” Another step. “One missed opportunity won’t kill me. But then he gave you that rose.”

Ray tries again to force himself into motion and once again finds himself paralyzed in his own body. He can’t even turn his head away. He just has to helplessly watch Edgar’s slow, lazy approach.

“That _damn rose_! He always had a flair for the dramatic. And if he wanted to put a big red target over the heart of his weakness, who was I to complain? So I started following you, just like he did, and… I think I might have fallen in love with you, just like he did.”

Ray’s lip curls involuntarily. But… That was a movement! He focuses on the tiny chip in the imaginary ice encasing his body and tries to will it to expand.

“ _Unlike_ him, I recognize that loving a tiny, pathetic human is just a liability. So I’ll have to remove you from the equation. I’m sure you understand. But I can’t ignore my feelings, so I’ll make it really special- even more special than my first. I hope you understand how much this means to me.”

Ray flares his nostrils as Edgar daintily withdraws a hunting knife from his ratty pants. The blade is so heavily stained that it looks almost black. He’s barely five feet away from the couch, now. Ray manages to blink and forces himself to close his eyes and keep focusing on moving.

“I can feel you trying to break my grip, Ray. That’s not very nice.”

In a heartbeat, Edgar is right in front of him, gripping Ray’s chin with one hand and pressing the knife against the soft flesh of his neck with the other. Ray squashes the instinct to open his eyes and continues pushing.

“Your heart is racing. I can _smell_ how scared you are. Who are you trying to impress?” He pauses. “Is it Ryan? Because I wouldn’t bother; Ryan is dead. I killed him, just like I killed all of your little friends who went out to hunt me. Idiots, the whole lot of them.”

The knife breaks skin then quickly withdraws, leaving a tiny nick under Ray’s left ear. The length of the blade’s edge moves to rest against his cheek threateningly.

“How about this: if you stop struggling and cooperate, I’ll let these two live. That’s a big sacrifice, Ray; I like the red headed one a lot. Not as much as I like you, of course.” His laugh sounds like a blender falling down a flight of stairs.

The instant he regains the ability to move his arm, the fingers on Ray’s right hand curl into a loose fist and he punches Edgar in the face.

It seems that Edgar wasn’t expecting this; he stumbles backwards, reaching up to cover his face and howling. Ray springs up from the couch and sprints toward the door, vaulting over the back couch and barely avoiding tripping over Gavin’s passed out form.

It’s dark, and his pulse is pounding in his ears, and his entire body is buzzing but Ray doesn’t even acknowledge it- he just hurtles around corners and through doorways with no concern for where he’s going. Around a table, up a staircase, turn a corner, another corner, and there’s a hallway lined with doors. Ray picks one at random, flings the door open, and shuts it behind himself as quietly and quickly as he can manage.

He turns the lock and backs up until he hits a wall- which is almost immediately. Because he’s in a closet. The heavy coats and winter boots muffle his movements as Ray slides down to the floor, thoughts split between white-noise fear and a manic appreciation for the irony of his hiding spot.

“Ra-ay…” Edgar singsongs distantly.

“Fuck, _fuck, fucking fuck-_ ” Ray hisses under his breath. Punching Edgar with his broken wrist was not a good move.

“Come out, Ray, or I’ll make it worse.”

“Doubtful,” he mouths, drawing his knees up to his chest and covering his mouth with his good hand. How could it possibly get worse than it already is? Edgar’s going to find him eventually, and then he’ll probably spend a few hours methodically destroying Ray’s body. Jack and Ryan are dead, along with Lindsay, Meg, and Geoff. Gavin’s probably not too far behind unless he gets some immediate medical attention. And Michael… Well, maybe if Ray grovels enough, Edgar will leave Michael be.

He can hear Edgar gradually approaching and continuing to call out increasingly vile things, so Ray starts tuning him out and shuts his eyes, trying to recall good memories and hold them for as long as he can.

_“Oh my god, is this a 3DS?”_

_Jack smiles as Ray finishes unwrapping the gift and holds the box out in front of himself, trying to find the trick that would cause the words to shift into something different. He never does- this is the real deal._

_Jack scoots the other wrapped gift closer to Ray from where he had left it, forgotten. Ray grins and rids this one of its paper and finds it to be a carrying case for his new system, lined with games. Animal Crossing, Pokemon, Luigi’s Mansion, Mario Kart, Professor Layton, Link Between Worlds, Majora’s Mask-_

_“Holy shit, Jack.” Ray shakes his head in disbelief. “What the fuck did I do to deserve this?”_

_Jack wraps an arm around Ray’s shoulders, which he leans into. “Merry Christmas, Ray.”_

_“Merry Christmas.” Ray repeats._

A door that must be in his hallway opens and then slams shut.

“Maybe when I’m done with you I’ll pose your body with the fat one’s. Father and son, reunited in death!”

The adrenaline is ebbing. His wrist is slowly being engulfed in burning agony, and Ray’s having a hard time breathing. Must have agitated his bruised ribs while he was parkouring for his life.

“He begged me not to hurt you. It was funny. I wonder… Can you beg as pretty as he did?”

Jack… Begged?

“Maybe if you do, I’ll find some anesthesia for you. That could be fun; you’ll stay awake, but you won’t go into shock and die. I think I’ll do that, actually.”

...Jack wouldn’t beg.

“If you come out now, I’ll make sure you don’t feel any pain. How’s that sound?”

Jack wouldn’t waste any time on something as pointless as begging with a monster.

“You have until the count of three.”

Edgar is lying.

“One…”

And if he’s lying about this, who’s to say he isn’t lying about everything else?

“Two…”

What was it that Gavin said? _I had to shift into bird form to get away. I couldn’t move at all._

“Maybe you’re too afraid to remember, but ‘three’ comes next, Ray.”

_Normal humans can’t live here._

“I’m getting tired of this game. This is your last chance.”

Ray gathers himself stiffly to his feet and, without hesitation, unlocks the closet door and pushes his way through into the hall.

Edgar is standing at the other end, peering through another door. He turns to look at Ray with flat delight on his face. Ray barely registers it.

“You’ve decided to come and play!”

Ray doesn’t reply.

Edgar’s smile falters at his calm expression, but he recovers quickly. “Don’t worry. I don’t need you to talk to have a good time.”

“Shut up.”

His ears flick back in surprise. “He speaks!”

“ _Shut up._ ” Ray repeats.

“Feisty! I like it. It’s good to face your death with courage instead of cowering and weeping.”

The tingling from before returns, filling up his chest and inflating the parts of him that have been left hollow by the fear and anxiety of recent times. He squares up his shoulders and lifts his chin, making eye contact with the empty thing in front of him.

“Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth.”

Ray feels a sick satisfaction at the way Edgar’s eyes widen, first in shock, then in fear, as a blinding light erupts from his chest. He bats at it as if it were a bug or a small flame he could extinguish, but quickly gives up and starts violently slapping at his chest and shouting. Ray narrows his eyes and tilts his head to follow as Edgar falls to the floor, screaming now- and then the light explodes out from his chest, spreading quickly across his limbs and engulfing him. Just a heartbeat later, Edgar’s form is reduced to ashes.

The light flickers out and Ray stumbles back a few steps, suddenly winded. The pain returns and brings a new friend like a nail being driven into his skull to the rhythm of his heart.

Distantly, Ray hears the front door slam open.

_“Ray!”_ Someone calls. Jack? Or Ryan, maybe?

Ray forces himself to take dragging steps out of the hall and back to the top of the stairs. Through the blur slowly taking over his vision, he can see the vague shapes of people rushing into the entryway. They don’t seem to notice him- he should call out, or wave, or… But his body has become unresponsive and he can do little more than tilt backward so he falls away from the banister, rather than over it.

He hears another shout, and then Ryan is right in front of him, but Ray can’t make out the details of his face. There are words…

“-gar?” Ryan keeps repeating.

Edgar. He’s asking about Edgar. Ray tosses his head to the side, in the direction of the ashes.

“I took care’f it.” He slurs, and then promptly passes out.

 

It feels like years have passed since Ray last woke up in his own bed.

It has _definitely_ been years since he woke up curled against Jack’s side. The last time this happened was when he got sick, back when he was 11. He’s not sick this time.

Jack’s soft snoring is not the only sound in his bedroom; Ray leans up and sees Ryan seated on his beanbag with crossed arms, but his head is tilted back and he, too, is breathing deeply and evenly in his sleep. It’s a funny juxtaposition of seriousness and relaxation.

Ray carefully shrugs out from under Jack’s arm and scoots off of the bed, then creeps around the piles of shit on his floor, careful not to disturb either of them as he heads for the door. His foot hits something and Ray jumps slightly, hissing out a curse and backing up. He turns quickly to check on Jack and Ryan.

The latter is staring at him with wide eyes and ears pricked in his direction.

Ray presses a finger to his lips and gestures for Ryan to follow him out of the room and into the main living area. They can talk out here with slightly more privacy, and they won’t have to worry about waking Jack.

Ryan hovers by his side the whole way down the hall and keeps glancing between Ray and the couch once they stop, but he doesn’t feel much like sitting, so he shakes his head and rolls his shoulders back stiffly, trying to convey silently what he has no explanation for. Ryan nods, and then it’s quiet and sort of awkward.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Ryan eventually blurts. His shoulders visibly hunch up slightly in betrayal of his embarrassment.

Ray can’t help his small smile. “Same.”

It’s silent again, but Ray doesn’t really mind it- he appreciates the time to gather his thoughts, to _remember_.

There was blood that must have been Jack’s, but Jack looked okay- but _Gavin_ \- Oh, fuck, Gavin.

“Is Gavin okay?”

Ryan quickly nods. “Yes, he’s okay. He was pretty pissed off that he missed the action, but he’s totally fine.”

“Oh, thank god,” Ray breathes, recalling with uncomfortable clarity the sound of his body impacting with the wall. “How bad is he hurt?”

Ryan shakes his head. “He’ll be back to completely normal by now.”

“What?” Ray scrunches his brows together. “That’s bullshit. Like, I’m glad, but that’s total bullshit.”

Ryan shrugs and smiles. “It’s an advantage of his species coexisting with magic users like Lindsay and Caleb. Between the two of them, once he was in bird form, I doubt it took longer than a few hours to fully mend his wounds.”

“And Jack? He looked fine, but is he okay?”

“Yes. Edgar just knocked him out.”

Ray breathes a sigh of relief. He’s relieved to hear that Gavin is okay, but it’s starting to piss him off, how many damn people around here have healing factors. His wimpy human body can’t keep up.

But. Human? No. He remembers the conversation he had with Gavin, and the light that filled his body up. Ray is not human. That’s not shit that happens to humans.

Oh. Oh, shit. He killed Edgar, didn’t he?

...Ray isn’t sure how he feels about that.

The silence between himself and Ryan stretches, then-

“I was so afraid,” Ryan says, barely above a whisper. He’s no longer looking at Ray, instead fixing his gaze on the kitchen window. “He dropped a fake trail, and by the time we got back… We couldn’t find Jack, and I thought that- That you were-”

“I’m not,” Ray quickly cuts in, because the look on Ryan’s face is unacceptable. “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t have a chance to say this, before. I should have. I thought that maybe I wouldn’t ever get to, but- I have another chance. So,” he turns back to Ray and gently takes his good hand between both of his, like he had right before Ray had… His gaze is bright and almost difficult to meet in its intensity. “Ray, you’re really important to me. I know that I’m older, and that we haven’t even really _known_ each other that long- but you kissed me, and I think that means you have feelings for me. I hope it does? I guess I shouldn’t have assumed, but I’m not really sure what else that would-”

“Ryan.” Ray cuts him off and gives him a pointed look and a small, encouraging smile. His voice is much steadier than he feels. Maybe whatever deity is in charge is trying to make up for all of the shit he’s had to deal with recently.

“Sorry. I just, uh…” Ryan closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again and leans in slightly, leaving a matter of inches between their faces. “I really like you. In the romantic sense. And if I’m not wrong, you like me, too.”

Ray wants to laugh at how endearing his awkward phrasing is. He keeps it contained within a smile and a soft exhale.

“Yeah.”

Ryan’s hopeful smile shifts up into a grin. He presses their foreheads together and laughs softly, clearly releasing all of his relief and nerves. Ray adjusts his grip on the hand he can hold back, revelling in the warmth and finding he feels impatient for when he can get the cast off so he can hold both of Ryan’s hands in both of his.

Then Ryan leans back and opens his eyes again, recapturing Ray’s attention.

He looks a little more serious as he asks, “Would it be okay for me to kiss you?”

Ray feels a bit embarrassed about how enthusiastically he nods.

Ryan releases Ray’s hand, instead reaching to rest on his hips. Ray slides his left hand up the length of Ryan’s right arm and stops at his shoulder.

Last time, it was a tiny moment of contact that didn’t last long enough to even register. This time isn’t an impulsive moment. Ray shuts his eyes and tries to keep his breathing under control, which becomes more challenging when he feels the warm ghost of Ryan’s breath against his face- and then he brushes their lips together, and this is _way_ better, holy shit. Ryan is soft and warm and Ray feels the light scrape of his stubble and he inhales, and okay, yeah, Ryan smells _really fucking good_.

They separate and Ray takes a few seconds to inhale more of Ryan’s scent before opening his eyes and meeting Ryan’s gaze. The amber in his scalera has returned to its full brightness and his eyes are flooded with warmth in a way that Ray is certain his own eyes mirror.

He wants to kiss Ryan again, to continue letting the glowing flutter in his chest grow, but Ryan’s ears twitch toward something behind Ray and he quickly takes a step back, separating their points of contact and tilting his chin up to indicate whatever he’s heard.

Even without turning, Ray has his guess, and it’s proven correct when he glances back and sees Jack sleepily wandering down the hallway. He gives no indication of having seen what they were up to- that’s not terribly surprising, since Ryan probably heard him get up in the first place- but Ray is grateful for it. He’s not sure how Jack would react, and he definitely doesn’t think he wants to have that conversation right now. Not when things are so completely new. Like, literally-just-happened-sixty-seconds-ago new.

Jack perks up and starts rushing forward when he blearily blinks up far enough to see Ray. He’s wrapped up in a hug on the precipice between a friendly bear and a boa constrictor.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” He says, pulling back enough to scour Ray’s face with a worried expression. “Do you feel alright? Any pain, or side effects?”

“I’m fine,” Ray brushes him off on instinct, then adds, “Side effects?”

“Lindsay made sure you were given enough of Caleb’s relaxor to kill a small child.”

“Sure.” Ray nods and reassesses, but finds no abnormalities in his condition, aside from the dull ache in his wrist that he’s grown accustomed to.

Speaking of which, now that he looks, he notices that the plaster cast has been swapped for one of the hard ones, colored beige. The color difference wasn’t enough to stick out in his mind when he had- well, other things to focus on. But it’s pretty sweet; the light color will make signatures stand out pretty well, and his fingers are free to flex all the way in this one, so he should be able to play games, if with a bit less coordination.

“You must be starving,” Jack says, and Ray instantly notices that yes, yes he is.

Ryan’s presence at their dining room table is completely unobtrusive. He politely accepts food from Jack, thanks him for it, and serves at Ray’s every beck and call, retrieving him more food or some orange juice or the napkins which sit just out of his reach. Jack fills the quiet by chattering about the vendor circuit and how quickly word apparently travels, because several merchants who have been staying the fuck away will be returning to the forest soon. They’ll bring supplies that have become scarce in recent months, and business should be on the ups for everyone.

It’s nice to talk about something so… Normal. Ray feels like the only things he’s discussed recently have been surrounding or directly regarding serious matters, and it’s exhausting to be serious all the time.

Ryan doesn’t add anything- he just smiles and nods when appropriate, speaking only when Ray asks him to bring something. From what Ray can tell, Jack doesn’t seem to be bothered by this. Mostly, he just eats his food, chats, and does some unsubtle relieved staring in Ray’s direction whenever there’s a break in conversation.

After they finish eating, Ryan offers to clear the table, but Jack waves him away with a kind smile. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of it. The dishwasher is really complicated.”

“Jack hates it when other people try to use our dishwasher,” Ray supplements.

Ryan quirks a brow and glances at Jack, who shrugs, smile still in place. “Nothing wrong with wanting things done a certain way.”

“Sure.” Ryan nods, and Jack relaxes a tiny fraction. “Maybe you can show me what settings to use some time.”

Jack gives Ryan a thoughtful look, then nods. He finishes collecting their accumulated dishes and heads around the corner into the kitchen.

“I think he’s embarrassed,” Ryan murmurs.

“What? About what?”

“Assuming I was the bad guy. I don’t blame him, though; I can’t imagine that this experience has been easy for him.”

If being in mortal peril was hell for Ray, he can’t imagine what Jack has been going through.

Still, Jack returns with his usual warm smile, holding a very familiar basket.

“You are fucking kidding me,” Ray says, feeling his brows raise involuntarily.

“It’s not for you.” Jack placates. “I’m taking some things over to Geoff, if you’re alright staying.”

Ray nods. “What’re you bringing him?”

His expression fades into affectionate exasperation. “Expensive whiskey.”

Ray nods sagely. He imagines Geoff will be getting drunk as often as possible for a while.

They share parting words and a short hug that isn’t as awkward as Ray first worries, and then Jack leaves without a second glance toward Ryan. Probably a good sign.

They settle side-by-side on the couch, Ray with his DS out but closed, and Ryan with a book that he recognizes from Jack’s study. The first couple of minutes are spent in comfortable quiet. Then, the memories start creeping all around Ray and reminding him of the questions still floating between them, and the air seems less still and more stifling.

“Are you staying?”

Great. Awesome job, Ray. What an excellent fucking bombshell to start with.

“In the forest?”

Ray nods.

Ryan pauses, clearly thinking carefully before replying. “I think I would like to.”

“Okay. Good,” Ray says. “Are we, like… Is this a thing?”

Ryan leans back with poorly concealed amusement on his face. “Is what a thing?”

“Us.”

“We’re not things, Ray. We’re people.”

“Okay, smartass,” Ray says, trying to keep the smile away and failing. “Are we going out?”

He worries for a second that Ryan’s going to say something like, _going out where?_ But he doesn’t, instead turning his glowing gaze on Ray and tilting his head to the side. “You already know how I feel about you.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“If that’s what you want, then yes, we can be going out. I certainly don’t have a problem with that.”

“Great. That’s awesome.” Ray is grinning, now. He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed.

Ryan closes his eyes and takes Ray’s good hand in his own. “...I have no idea where I’m going to stay.”

“With Lindsay?” Ray suggests.

Ryan’s lip curls slightly. “I think Meg’s going to be staking that territory down for a while.”

He starts to suggest that Ryan stay with him and Jack, but that would be way too fast, not even bringing Jack’s feelings into consideration, so he stops himself. “Geoff, then?”

“For the time being, maybe. But I’ve been on the move for so long, now- what I really want is somewhere that’s _mine_ , you know?”

Ray nods and breaks into a grin. “I might know the perfect place.”

 

With Jack, Ryan, Meg, and two contractors in tow, Ray takes a familiar route down the path to an ancient stone frame that stood once as a proud building.

It seems shabbier than he remembers, now that he’s showing it to people who would potentially have to live in it- but Meg immediately springs into action, running around the skeleton and rattling off ideas about floor plans and colors and themes. The contractors struggle to keep up with her graceful hopping through the cluttered ground while taking down her rapid-fire plans in their little notepads. Ryan hangs back, watching her prance around the rubble with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and a soft, contemplative look on his face.

After a quick glance to make sure Jack is occupied with inspecting the building, Ray nudges Ryan with his elbow and presses their arms together.

“So?”

Ryan does a Jack-check of his own, then quickly kisses the top of Ray’s head. “It’s perfect.”

 

Ray thrusts the wiimote in Ryan’s direction and shakes it in his face until he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Ray, why?”

Ray indicates the screen, then holds up his arm, still in the cast. “I can’t do the jerk-off minigames.”

“You have two hands.”

“Yes, but what kind of heathen jerks off with their non-dominant hand? Come on, be a friend.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and looks up at the screen. “So I just shake it?”

“Watch the animation.” Ray says, and the simulation of mario’s hand holding a wiimote quickly loops back to the jerking motion, which sends Gavin into another fit of giggles.

“Come on, let’s just fucking do this already,” Michael grumbles impatiently. Jeremy nods and starts the minigame.

“It’s not like you plebs have to worry about winning, anyway.” Gavin boasts.

Ray isn’t expecting much of Ryan’s performance- most Nintendo games seem to have some kind of vendetta against him- but as the countdown begins, Ryan flicks his eyes over to Gavin’s smug expression, and his lips quirk up into a smirk. The very instant the game begins, Ryan’s entire forearm moves so quickly that it’s a solid blur. Waluigi’s model ends up clipping through itself as the game attempts to keep up with Ryan’s soda-shaking pace.

The game ends and Ryan falls back a bit. Streams of soda shoot out of the cans on screen, and Ray’s stream goes so far that the camera stops panning up to track it. Ryan’s smirk shifts into a grin and he hands Ray the wiimote while Gavin squawks loudly in protest.

“That’s bloody cheating!”

“Nah.” Ryan replies.

“You used your powers to win. I can’t think of a more proper definition for ‘cheating’, Ryan!”

Ryan shrugs. “But I’m not playing.”

“He has a point, Gav.” Michael reaches up and noogies Gavin, effectively squashing his further complaints.

With that win, Waluigi has enough coins to afford the star, and Ray only has to roll a two to reach it. Michael goes first, but he’s nowhere near Toad- a fact which he bitterly points out as he uses his slo-mo dice block to deliberately land on a green space that fucks over not just himself, but Gavin as well.

Ray takes his turn to roll and considers using his double dice block, but decides against it; there’s only a 10% chance that he’ll roll the one, and no one else is close enough to the star spot to justify blowing his candy, so he just rolls the regular dice block.

And… “Fuck. Nice one, Ray.” Ray mutters to himself.

Jeremy is up next. Through some very clever maneuvering, he manages to swap places with Ray and takes the star on his next turn, effectively winning himself the game.

“Bollocks!” Gavin throws his wiimote down on the couch and stomps away.

“Babe, if you’re going to the kitchen, can you grab me a soda?” Michael calls after him.

“Get it yourself!” Comes a muffled reply.

“I’ll blow you?”

There’s a pause. Then, “I’ll grab you one, love.”

“Quit drinking my soda,” Ryan protests. Michael sticks his tongue out at him.

The closing ceremony starts playing on the screen. Ray shifts around to lean more comfortably against Ryan’s side, then relaxes into his warmth and tries to forget that he’ll have to go home soon. Ryan will walk with him- he always does, and the cold nip starting up has only made him more protective- but Ray will still have to say goodbye and spend the night alone in his bed. At least tomorrow is training day, so he’ll have something to throw himself into.

Ryan, ever-observant of his moods, combs a comforting hand through Ray’s hair and gently whaps his shin with his tail a couple of times- his silent way of asking Ray if he’s okay.

Michael is absorbed in the action on the screen, so Ray tilts his head up so his face is inches from Ryan’s and murmurs, “Don’t want to go.”

“Mm. Me neither.” He breathes back.

Ray cocks a brow. “You live here.”

Ryan smiles and rolls his eyes. “I meant that I don’t want you to go, either.”

“Would Jack notice if I didn’t come home?”

Ryan’s easy smirk dispels the surge of uncertainty that always comes chasing after Ray’s flirty comments. “Yes, Dear.”

“Pet names are a ten dollar fine.” Michael pipes up, still watching the screen.

Ray’s face flushes. Of _course_ he was listening to them- the other couch is only across the room, not the fucking _house_.

“This is my house, though.” Ryan protests.

Gavin returns and hands Michael a can of Diet Coke before settling back in beside him. “What are we talking about?”

“Ryan used a pet name, and we’re deciding if the fine still applies even though he lives here,” Jeremy says, leaning back in the beanbag chair to look at Gavin upside-down.

“Course it does,” He says.

“But this is my house,” Ryan repeats.

“Doesn’t matter.” Gavin shoots back.

“Don’t kinkshame my boyfriend in his own home, Gavin.” Ray says.

“It’s Turney’s home, too, and she pays into the pot just like the rest of us. The rules still apply.”

“Hah. You called Ryan your boyfriend,” Michael adds. “Gay.”

Ryan’s ears twitch to the side like they do when he’s about to make a sarcastic comment, but Ray beats him to the punch. “Says the guy who agreed to blow his boyfriend for a can of soda literally less than a minute ago.”

Michael shrugs. “I know what I’m about.”

Jeremy covers his ears. “You guys are terrible.”

Ray’s pocket starts beeping. He digs into the folds of his skirt and comes away with his shiny new communicator, blaring its terrible alarm to remind him that he has to leave soon if he wants to make it home before midnight. Since turning eighteen, his curfew was lifted permanently, but training starts at sunrise, and trying to learn how to knife-fight on less than eight hours of sleep is actually the fucking worst.

Ryan stands and pulls Ray up along with him without needing to be prompted. Even once he’s steady on his feet again, Ray doesn’t release his grip on Ryan’s hand, instead holding it loosely at his side while he tries to get the communicator back in his pocket with his cast hand. Practice has bred skill- he manages it without looking too stupid in the process.

“Hey, Ryan, I’m fucking- Wait, hold on-” Michael turns to Gavin and cups his cheeks in both of his hands, which Gavin allows. “Boi, are you as fucking wasted as me?”

“Michael,” Gavin replies. “I am _so hammered._ ”

“Okay.” Michael pecks him and releases his face so he can turn back around to face Ryan once more. “Ryan, _we’re_ fucking sloshed. Can-”

“Yes, you can sleep over. Just don’t vomit on Meg’s new couch or she’ll skin the both of you.”

Michael throws up a mock salute and promptly splays himself out, pinning Gavin down in an awkward position. Gavin starts to protest, then freezes mid-word, expression shifting into delight. He pokes his tongue out for a second, clearly concentrating hard- then shifts into his bird form and darts out from under Michael’s legs and across the room. He perches with surprising grace on top of the entertainment center.

“Aw, my pillow!” Michael cries.

Jeremy glances between them, apparently having trouble figuring out what just happened through his haze of inebriation- then he bursts into laughter that leaves him wheezing with tears streaming down his face. At the sight of him losing his shit, Gavin starts making a short, shrill noise that drops suddenly in pitch, and in a blink, it’s not a little starling, but a grown-ass man crouched on top of the shelf in an uncoordinated crumple of folded limbs, laughing his ass off. Predictably, Gavin loses his balance almost immediately and pitches forward. He lands perfectly on top of Jeremy, who makes a low ‘oof’ sound but remains otherwise unresponsive.

“...I do hope you understand how lucky it is that you didn’t break anything.” Ryan says.

“Speak for- _fuck_ \- for yourself.” Jeremy wheezes. “Gavin. Get off of me.”

“What? Oh, shite, I forgot you’re not Michael.”

“Gavin, no!” Michael calls from the couch.

“Jesus Christ, how are you so _heavy?_ Birds have, like, hollow bones and shit, so why don’t birdmen have hollow bones, too?” Jeremy hooks his hands under Gavin’s shoulders and forcibly flips them over so Gavin is beneath him, then quickly climbs to his feet and brushes his front off. As always, Jeremy maintains an impressive dexterity for someone Ray knows to be drunk off his ass.

“M’not a birdman,” Gavin mutters. “S’called… Bloody hell, it’s… Ornithurae therianthropist. Yeah, that.”

Ray shakes his head. “How can you possibly be able to pronounce that perfectly when you can barely get through a sentence without tripping over your own tongue?”

Gavin looks exaggeratedly thoughtful. “Practical knowledge.” He says sagely.

“What does that even _mean?_ ” Ryan replies.

“No- No. Not tonight. You guys can have this argument later, when Ryan gets back from walking me home.” Ray uses his grip on Ryan’s hand to pull him along out of the main room and toward the door.

“Bye, Ray!” Michael cries. Gavin and Jeremy echo the sentiment as the door swings shut and Ryan locks it, just to be safe.

September has come, and with it are the shifting colors of the canopy and the chill that hangs stubbornly in the air. Today was warm, though, so the evening isn’t as cold as they tend to be this time of year. Still, Ray leans as closely into Ryan’s heat as he comfortably can while they walk along in the quiet.

“Have you set a date for when the cast comes off?”

Ray glances down at it. The original beige is now littered with colorful signatures and drawings collected over the last six weeks. When they found out for sure that Ray was not, in fact, a normal human, he had hoped that meant a shortened recovery period for his various injuries- this was not the case. There are still a lot of things that they don’t really know about the nature of his abilities. The most talented analyst in the entire sprawling mass of the forest, a fidgety man called Heyman, couldn’t give them more than the very basics: there’s both an offensive and defensive side to his magic, both rooted in light. Ray can probably generate and command light to use as a weapon, and that same light acts as a natural shield against many types of magic. Their working theory is that it is half effective against mental manipulation, and fully effective against biological manipulation. That’s good, because it means he can’t be transfigured or de-aged or magically poisoned- but he also can’t be healed outside of what his body can do naturally.

At least the bruised ribs were fully healed after the first month.

“This upcoming Saturday we’re heading to Caleb’s. He might decide I have to keep it on longer, but the last time we went in, he said he doubted it would come to that.”

Ryan nods approvingly. “Denecour is a good kid.”

“He’s your doctor, too,” Ray says, nudging Ryan with his elbow. “It’s only a few more weeks before you’ll have to start getting check-ups all the fucking time. I’ll tag out, and you’ll tag in.”

“Man, don’t remind me.” Ryan sighs wistfully. “I still think that you should try hibernating. It’s much more convenient.”

“Normally, I would be all about the idea of sleeping for two straight months, but I’m about to regain the use of my dominant hand, and I have a _lot_ of catching up to do.”

Ryan raises an eyebrow.

“I- In video games,” Ray quickly adds on.

“Right.”

“No, really. If I meant jerking off, I would have said jerking off.”

“Sure, Ray.”

“...You did not just ‘Sure, Jan’ me.”

Ryan snorts and shrugs. “What can I say? I’m hip.”

“My own boyfriend, using memes against me.”

“Meg gave me a crash course on everything I missed.”

“Remind me why I’m dating you and not her, again.”

“Because Lindsay would do horrific things to your person if you tried to make a move.”

“Ah, right.” Ray stops and turns to face Ryan. With how close together their sides were pressed, that leaves very little space between them. “Also, because you’re great and I’m super gay for your hot ass.”

He catches a flicker of Ryan’s tail swishing behind him, then Ryan is kissing him like he always does when Ray goads him into it like this, so he shuts his eyes and leans in for a better angle.

Five minutes of distraction and another loud reminder from Ray’s communicator later, they return to their walk and make it back within sight of the house with two minutes to spare.

“Practice tomorrow?” Ryan asks.

“Yep. Gotta be up bright and early to swing knives at a hay bale for three hours.”

Ryan presses another kiss against his lips. “You love practice. You’ll have a great time.”

“Shh. Let me suffer.” Ray shoves his face into Ryan’s chest for a couple of seconds, then forces himself to back up a couple of steps toward the gate. His fingers are still intertwined with Ryan’s, so he has to stop when both of their arms are fully extended, or he has to let go. He ends up stopping. Something more serious takes over him, just for a moment, and he says, “I’m gonna tell Jack after practice.”

Ryan doesn’t need to ask to know what Ray’s talking about. “Do you want support?”

The answer is yes, absolutely. But that would probably only complicate matters further. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea.”

“Yeah… Probably not.” Ryan glances away, sadness temporarily diluting his smile. “Well, I’ll support you no matter what.”

“Ryan,” Ray says, adopting a straight, serious face. “That’s gay.”

“Yep.” Ryan squeezes his hand gently and releases it. Ray allows his arm to swing back to his side while he watches Ryan’s meet the other to fold over his chest. “Tell me how it goes?”

“Of course.” Ray puts on his most reassuring smile and hopes it’s more convincing than he feels. It’s not like he expects Jack to react negatively, exactly; he’s just not sure _what_ Jack is going to think. There are a lot of variables at play here, and disturbing even one part of the delicate balance composing his current life could threaten the integrity of the whole thing. Still, he wants Jack to know. It sucks to tip-toe around him about stuff, and it double-sucks to do that about his relationship with Ryan.

“Goodnight, Ray. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Ryan.”

Ryan turns and heads back the way they came. Ray watches him go until he turns the bend and disappears behind the trees.

In the morning, he’ll tell Jack that he’s been dating Ryan for weeks. Jack will probably be a bit surprised, but he’ll be supportive, because Jack loves Ray and wants him to be happy, and Ryan has proven many times over that he wants the same thing. Ray just hopes it doesn’t end up straining the relationships that Ryan has made with Jack and Geoff.

But even if it does, it’s okay.

They have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story in early April. Seven months later, it's finally done. A huge shout out goes to my team of beta readers who have been nothing but supportive and wonderful throughout this entire process. Thank you, guys- this would never have happened without you.  
> That said...  
> Please leave me a comment telling me what you thought! This is the biggest project I've ever completed, and I am really hoping that people will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks, and see you next time!


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